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THREE  VOLUMES  ON  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AND  THE  END  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AT  THE  TUILERIES. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AND  THE  DOWNFALL  OF  ROYALTY. 

THREE  VOLUMES  ON  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 

CITIZENESS  BONAPARTE. 

THE  WIFE  OF  THE  FIRST  CONSUL. 

THE  COURT  OF  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 

FOUR  VOLUMES  ON  THE  EMPRESS  MARIE  LOUISE. 

THE  HAPPY  DAYS  OF  MARIE  LOUISE. 

MARIE  LOUISE  AND  THE  DECADENCE  OF  THE  EMPIRE. 

MARIE  LOUISE  AND  THE  INVASION  OF  1814. 

MARIE  LOUISE,  THE  RETURN  FROM  ELBA,  AND  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS. 

TWO  VOLUMES  ON  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ANGOULÊME. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ANGOULÊME. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  ANGOULÊME  AND  THE  TWO  RESTORATIONS. 

THREE  VOLUMES  ON  THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY  AND  THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XVIII. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY  AND  THE  COURT  OF  CHARLES  X. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY  AND  THE  REVOLUTION  OF  JULY,  1830. 


Four  New  Volumes. 

WOMEN  OF  THE  VALOIS  AND  VERSAILLES  COURTS. 


WOMEN  OF  THE  VALOIS  COURT. 
THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Dauphiness  of  France. 


WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 
II 


Last  Years  of  Louis  XV 


BY 


IMBERT  DE  SAINT-AMAND 


•-i\  w  r 

L  e 


TRANSLATED  BY 

ELIZABETH  GILBERT  MARTIN 


WITH  PORTRAITS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 
1893 


COPYRIGHT,  1893,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 


O  O-t-L  (  \  ^  » 

*  L  * 

X  'o  WX 

-i-  ->  o<.  vy  ^ 

CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction .  1 

FIRST  PART 

THE  COURT  AND  THE  CITY  AT  THE  END  OF  THE 
REIGN  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

CHAPTER 

I.  The  King .  9 

II.  The  Nobility .  16 

III.  The  Clergy .  18 

IV.  The  Magistracy .  22 

V.  The  Middle  Classes .  29 

VI.  The  People .  34 

VII.  Political  Women .  40 

VIII.  Love  .  46 

IX.  The  Famous  Salons .  61 

X.  The  Philosophers .  68 

SECOND  PART 

THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES  AT  THE  END  OF  THE 
REIGN  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

I.  Louis  XV.  in  1768 .  79 

II.  The  Beginnings  of  the  Countess  Du  Barry .  91 


v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


ORAPTER  PAGE 

III.  The  Triumphs  op  the  Countess  Du  Barry .  97 

IV.  Madame  Louise  op  France,  Carmelite  Novice...  105 

V.  The  Childhood  of  Marie  Antoinette .  116 

VI.  Marie  Antoinette’s  Arrival  in  France .  125 

VII.  The  Marriage  Festivities  of  Marie  Antoinette  135 

VIII.  The  Daupiiiness  and  the  Royal  Family  in  1770.  143 

IX.  Marie  Antoinette  and  Madame  Du  Barry .  149 

X.  The  Dauphiness  and  Maria  Theresa .  162 

XI.  The  Pavilion  of  Luciennes .  177 

XII.  The  Death  of  Louis  XV .  188 

EPILOGUE 

The  Scaffold  of  Madame  Du  Barry .  199 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


INTRODUCTION 


,0  live  the  life  of  the  dead,  to  study  an  epoch 


JL  thoroughly,  to  identify  one’s  self  with  person¬ 
ages  and  become  familiar  with  their  habits,  ideas, 
passions,  tastes,  fashions,  prejudices,  is  a  sort  of 
metempsychosis,  an  incarnation.  To  attain  it,  one 
must  isolate  himself  from  his  own  time,  and,  for¬ 
getting  that  he  is  himself,  must  imagine  that  he  is 
another.  At  first  one  lends  but  slight  attention  to 
the  details  given  by  the  memoirs  of  the  times  to 
which  he  wishes  to  transport  himself,  to  the  minutiæ 
of  every  sort  which  are  only  seen  as  through  a  glass. 
But  after  a  while,  you  begin  to  be  captivated  by  all 
these  petty  facts,  this  daily  tittle-tattle,  and  the  past 
assumes  a  second  actuality.  It  seems  as  if  you 
knew  intimately  the  actors  in  the  piece  of  which 
you  are  giving  yourself  a  representation.  You  think 
you  hear  their  voices  and  watch  the  play  of  their 
countenances,  and  you  become  the  courtier  of  pal¬ 
aces,  the  holder  of  season  tickets  to  theatres,  the 
habitué  of  the  salons  you  are  seeking  to  revive. 


1 


O 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


This  is  what  I  should  like  to  attempt  for  the  last 
years  of  Louis  XV.,  those  six  years  which  extend 
from  the  death  of  Marie  Leczinska  to  that  of  the 
sovereign  who  is  no  longer  styled  the  Well-Beloved 
except  by  antiphrasis.  A  period  curious  by  its 
contrasts,  its  wavering  struggle  between  the  ancient 
régime  which  is  approaching  extreme  old  age,  and 
the  new  which  as  yet  exists  only  in  embryo!  French 
society,  regretting  nothing  of  the  past,  fearing  noth¬ 
ing  from  the  future,  advances  singing  toward  the 
abyss. 

I  fancy  that  instead  of  being  an  obscure  man  of 
letters  of  tbe  nineteenth  century,  I  am  a  courtier 
of  the  eighteenth;  that  I  am  present  at  Madame 
Du  Barry’s  triumph,  when  Madame  Louise  of  France 
takes  the  veil,  and  at  the  rising  of  that  nascent  star 
which  is  called  Marie  Antoinette.  I  love  Versailles, 
where  the  monarchy,  spite  of  its  decline,  has  still 
some  remaining  prestige.  But  I  greatly  prefer  Paris  ; 
Paris,  capital  of  opinion,  Paris,  city  of  luxury,  intel¬ 
ligence,  pleasures.  I  live  with  the  philosophers  while 
mistrustful  of  their  doctrines,  whose  bearings  they  do 
not  comprehend  well.  The  courtier  of  Louis  XV.  at 
Versailles,  I  am  the  familiar  of  the  kings  and  queens 
of  fashion  at  Paris.  I  visit  the  Marquise  du  Deffand 
without  embroiling  myself  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse.  At  the  house  of  Madame  Geoffrin  I 
meet  those  great  nobles,  men  of  wit  and  taste,  who, 
mingling  with  writers  and  artists,  establish  a  fusion 
between  aristocracy  and  literature,  those  foreign 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


diplomatists  who  seem  ravished  with  French  and 
Parisian  civilization.  I  go  to  those  delightful  sup¬ 
pers  where  one  forgets  for  an  instant  all  that  is  sad, 
all  that  is  morose,  in  existence,  in  order  to  think 
only  of  what  is  amiable  and  agreeable.  When  it 
suits  me,  I  dabble  a  little  in  politics.  When  the 
Duke  de  Choiseul  falls  into  disgrace,  I  pose  as  his 
courtier  and  go  to  inscribe  my  name  on  the  Chan- 
teloup  column.  The  quarrels  between  the  magistracy 
and  royalty  interest  me,  but  I  do  not  take  them  too 
seriously. 

I  see  a  society  divided  into  two  camps:  the  pes¬ 
simists  and  the  optimists,  those  who  believe  in  the 
social  peril  and  those  who  disbelieve.  But  the  lat¬ 
ter  are  in  the  majority.  The  former  declare  that  if 
the  altar  is  no  longer  solid,  the  throne  cannot  be  so 
either.  They  regret  the  Jesuits.  They  loudly  blame 
Voltaire.  The  future  looks  black  to  them.  They 
are  the  prophets  of  misfortune. 

The  second  smile  if  one  expresses  a  fear.  When 
they  have  pronounced  the  words  justice,  tolerance, 
equality,  liberty,  they  think  they  have  said  all. 
They  jeer  at  the  Cassandras  predicting  public  calam¬ 
ities,  at  the  priests  lamenting  over  unbelief,  at  Louis 
XV.  contemplating  with  a  sort  of  anxiety  the  por¬ 
trait  of  Charles  I.,  King  of  England.  How  could  a 
loyal,  chivalric  nation  such  as  the  French  make  its 
king  ascend  a  scaffold?  Is  not  society  every  day 
becoming  milder,  more  enlightened,  more  tolerant? 
Are  not  the  old  religious  quarrels  falling  into  obliv- 


4 


LAST  TEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ion  ?  Is  not  the  nobility  placing  itself  at  the  head 
of  a  liberal  and  generous  movement?  Are  not  the 
priests  becoming  as  agreeable  as  worldly  people  ?  Is 
not  instruction  making  progress  daily?  When  had 
literature  more  prestige?  When  were  liberal  ideas, 
the  taste  for  useful  reforms,  civilizing  schemes,  more 
fashionable?  Is  not  science,  which  every  day  real¬ 
izes  new  prodigies,  uniting  itself  with  philosophy  to 
embellish,  pacify,  and  regenerate  the  human  species  ? 
And  it  is  such  a  time  as  this  that  people  would  like 
to  signalize  as  a  period  doomed  to  troubles,  anarchy, 
sanguinary  violence  !  “  Away,  ye  tremblers  !  ”  cry  the 
philosophers.  “  Away,  retrograde  men,  who  want  to 
enchain  and  degrade  humanity!  Nothing  will  im¬ 
pede  tjjie  diffusing  light!  Nothing,  no,  nothing  will 
thwart  the  irresistible  movement  which  is  carrying 
France,  and  after  France  all  Europe,  toward  progress, 
toward  indefinite,  illimitable  perfection.  Drop  these 
pusillanimous  arguments,  imaginary  alarms,  infan¬ 
tine  or  senile  terrors.  The  phantoms  which  disturb 
you  will  not  frighten  us.  Your  phantasmagoria 
makes  us  laugh.  It  is  useless  for  you  to  raise  your 
voices,  and  seek  to  intimidate  us  by  your  tragic 
threats  and  dismal  predictions.  Away,  away,  ye 
tremblers  !  The  world  moves  ;  you  will  not  stop  it!  ” 
I  listen  to  this  flow  of  fine  words.  But,  I  own, 
it  does  not  quite  convince  me.  I  do  not  altogether 
believe  in  the  nearness  of  the  age  of  gold.  After  me 
the  deluge,  exclaimed,  or  so  they  say,  Louis  XV.  in 
the  boudoir  of  the  Du  Barry.  Louis  XV.  forebodes  no 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


good  of  the  future.  Perhaps  he  is  right.  And  I, 
who  am  carried  away  by  the  vortex  of  the  world,  I 
who  lead  this  unquiet,  feverish,  brilliant  life  of  the 
city  and  the  court,  of  salons  and  boudoirs,  academies 
and  theatres,  who  go  to  all  the  suppers,  all  the  first 
nights,  all  the  entertainments,  I,  the  friend  of  all 
the  great  nobles,  all  the  celebrated  men,  all  the 
fashionable  beauties,  I  also,  like  the  old  King,  have 
my  hours  of  sadness  and  discouragement.  At  times 
all  these  men  and  women  whom  I  meet  seem  to  me, 
as  they  do  to  the  old  Marquise  de  Deffand,  “machines 
on  springs,  which  go  and  come,  talk  and  laugh,  with¬ 
out  thinking,  without  reflecting,  each  playing  his 
part  by  mere  custom.”  Yes,  people  of  the  world, 
impassioned  on  the  surface,  indifferent  at  heart, 
malicious  conversations  which  are  the  aliment  of 
jealousy  and  idleness,  insipid  gallantry  the  parody 
of  passion,  everlastingly  renewed  discussions  on  love 
and  friendship  by  persons  who  have  never  known  and 
never  will  know  anything  but  the  theory  of  either 
sentiment,  artificial,  egotistic,  glacial  combinations 
of  the  life  of  salons,  there  are  moments  when  you 
weary  me,  when  I  hold  you  in  horror.  There  are 
moments  when  I  say  to  myself:  What  will  this 
philosophic  fury  result  in?  What  will  be  built 
upon  so  many  ruins  ?  What  will  the  throne  be  with¬ 
out  the  altar,  the  nobility  without  the  clergy?  How 
will  this  Babel  which  they  call  the  Encyclopedia 
end?  And  what  real  melancholy  lies  underneath 
this  apparent  gaiety!  What  inanity,  what  wretched- 


6 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ness  !  What  bitterness  at  the  bottom  of  these  cups 
of  crystal!  What  thorns  among  these  roses!  What 
cares  in  these  powdered  heads  !  Brilliant  beauties, 
how  your  painted  cheeks  are  wrinkling  with  anxiety! 
Eighteenth  century,  century  so  proud  of  thy  wit, 
thine  audacity,  thy  pretended  progress,  century  of 
philosophers,  of  learned  ladies,  of  noble  artists,  of 
all-powerful  litterateurs,  century  of  Rousseau  and 
Voltaire,  Diderot  and  Helvétius,  eighteenth  century 
which  art  approaching  thy  term,  what  will  thy  clos¬ 
ing  years  be  like  ?...  But  I  will  banish  gloomy 
presentiments.  I  will  exclaim  with  Horace  Wal¬ 
pole:  “I  laugh,  that  I  may  not  weep.  I  play  with 
monkeys,  dogs,  and  cats,  that  I  may  not  be  devoured 
i  by  the  beast  of  Gévaudan.”  Let  us  taste,  then,  while 
there  still  is  time,  the  sweetness  of  feeling  and  liv¬ 
ing.  This  society  which  has  so  many  defects,  so 
many  vices,  but  also  so  many  charms  and  attractions, 
let  us  examine  it  without  complaisance  and  without 
anger.  The  court,  the  city,  the  nobility,  the  clergy, 
the  magistracy,  the  middle  class,  the  people,  the 
philosophers,  the  literary  men,  the  artists,  the  women, 
above  all  the  women,  let  us  watch  them  filing  by  in 
turn,  the  actors  and  supernumeraries  of  a  comedy 
which  will  end,  and  very  soon  perhaps,  in  the  most 
pathetic  and  lugubrious  of  all  dramas.  .  .  .  The 
new  world  is  advancing.  Let  us  cast  a  final  glance 
at  the  old  one. 


FIRST  PART 

THE  COURT  AND  THE  CITY  AT  THE  END 
OF  THE  REIGN  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


I 


THE  KING 

AT  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  the  court 
is  out  of  fashion.  The  same  etiquette,  the 
same  names,  the  same  distinctions,  are  still  beheld 
there.  But  the  King  is  old;  what  is  more,  the  King 
is  ridiculous.  His  passion  for  a  nobody,  a  Du  Barry, 
has  something  about  it  that  is  absurd  and  painfully 
grotesque.  Versailles  no  longer  makes  people  trem¬ 
ble  ;  it  makes  them  smile.  They  jeer  at  the  amorous 
monarch  who  is  playing  a  superannuated  pastoral 
with  a  courtesan.  No  one  now  takes  seriously  the 
Well-Beloved  of  the  Almanac,  as  he  is  still  ironically 
called.  A  joker  circulated,  1771,  the  following  pater, 
dedicated  to  His  Most  Christian  Majesty:  “Our 
father  who  art  at  Versailles,  hallowed  be  thy  name; 
thy  kingdom  is  overcome,  thy  will  is  done  no  more 
on  earth  than  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  our  daily 
bread  which  you  have  taken  from  us;  pardon  your 
parliaments  which  have  upheld  our  interests,  as  you 
pardon  your  ministers  who  have  sold  them.  Do  not 
succumb  to  the  temptations  of  the  Du  Barry,  but 
deliver  us  from  that  devil  of  a  chancellor.” 


9 


10 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


The  scenery  of  Versailles  is  not  changed,  however. 
The  gentlemen  on  duty  fulfil  their  functions  with  as 
much  assiduity  as  of  old.  The  King’s  levee  con¬ 
tinues  to  be  a  piece  in  five  acts,  where  the  courtiers 
make  their  appearance  like  ballet  dancers  of  the 
highest  class.  There  are  always  the  familiar  entries , 
when  the  just-awakened  King  is  still  in  his  bed  ;  the 
grand  entries ,  when  he  has  just  risen  and  is  in  his 
dressing-gown;  then  that  which  is  called  the  entry 
of  the  chamber ,  when  he  is  in  his  armchair,  in  front 
of  his  dressing-table;  and  finally,  the  general  entry , 
that  of  the  stream  of  courtiers  who  have  been  waiting 
since  daybreak  in  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors.  Versailles 
is  always  that  city  of  eighty  thousand  souls  which  is 
replenished,  peopled,  occupied,  by  the  life  of  a  single 
man,  that  essentially  royal  city  which  is  marvellously 
arranged  so  as  to  provide  for  the  pleasures,  the  guard, 
the  society,  and  the  exhibition  of  the  sovereign. 
The  immortal  race  of  courtiers  is  continually  recruited 
by  compliant  and  clever  men  who,  on  being  pre¬ 
sented  at  court,  have  received  and  obeyed  this  coun¬ 
sel:  “You  have  only  three  things  to  do:  speak  Avell 
of  everybody,  ask  for  everything  that  is  not  taken, 
and  sit  down  when  you  can.”  But,  in  spite  of  their 
irreproachable  attitude,  all  these  courtiers  resemble 
priests  who  no  longer  believe  in  their  god.  They 
still  burn  incense  at  the  feet  of  the  idol,  as  a  matter 
of  custom,  but  the  idol  hardly  creates  the  vestige  of 
an  illusion.  Etiquette,  which  subsists  in  all  its 
rules  and  its  minutiæ,  is  still  in  usage,  but  it  is  no 


THE  KING 


11 


longer  a  religion.  Prestige  has  vanished.  One 
cannot  find  another  Dangeau,  another  De  Luynes. 
Money,  moreover,  that  nerve  of  courts,  is  becoming 
scarcer.  Horace  Walpole  wrote,  July  30,  1771:  — 

“The  distress  here  is  incredible,  especially  at 
court.  The  King’s  tradesmen  are  ruined,  his  ser¬ 
vants  starving,  and  even  angels  and  archangels  can¬ 
not  get  their  pensions  and  salaries,  but  sing ‘Woe! 
woe!  woe!’  instead  of  Hosannahs.  Compiègne  is 
abandoned;  Villiers  Coterêts  and  Chantilly1  crowded, 
and  Chanteloup 2  still  more  in  fashion,  whither 
everybody  goes  that  pleases;  though,  when  they 
ask  leave,  the  answer  is,  ‘Je  ne  le  defends  ni  le 
permets.’  This  is  the  first  time  that  ever  the  will 
of  a  king  of  France  was  interpreted  against  his 
inclination.  Yet,  after  annihilating  his  Parlia¬ 
ment,  and  ruining  public  credit,  he  tamely  submits 
to  he  affronted  by  his  own  servants.  Madame  de 
Beauveau,  and  two  or  three  high-spirited  dames, 
defy  this  Czar  of  Gaul.” 

Walpole  is  careful  to  add  that  there  is  nothing 
very  serious  in  the  opposition  of  these  ladies.  “It 
must  be  said,  they  and  their  cabals  have  as  little 
consistency  as  their  party.  They  make  epigrams, 
chant  vaudevilles  against  the  favorite,  distribute 
pamphlets  against  Chancellor  Maupeou,  but  all  that 
has  no  more  effect  than  a  shot  in  the  air.” 


1  Residences  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  the  Prince  of  Condé, 
then  in  disgrace  for  having  taken  sides  with  the  former  Parliament 
against  that  of  Chancellor  Maupeou. 

2  The  Duke  de  Choiseul’s  place  of  exile. 


12 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


To  sum  up,  people  still  preserve  for  the  King,  if 
not  affection  and  respect,  —  respect  and  affection 
ceased  to  exist  long  ago,  —  at  least  a  certain  indul¬ 
gence.  One  excuses  this  old  man  as  one  would 
excuse  a  spoiled  child.  He  has  done  harm,  but  on 
the  other  hand,  he  has  done  good.  He  has  lost  the 
colonies,  but  he  has  annexed  Lorraine  and  Corsica 
to  France.  He  has  resisted  powerful  coalitions. 
He  is  the  victor  of  Fontenoy.  His  aged  arm  has 
been  able  to  strike  the  Parliament,  and  this  coup 
d'État  puts  off  the  cataclysm  for  several  years. 
Louis  XV.,  devotee  and  debauchee,  dissatisfied  with 
others  and  with  himself,  a  mixture  of  feebleness  and 
energy,  of  heedlessness  and  judgment, —  Louis  XV., 
possessing  still  a  certain  dignity,  politeness,  and 
well-bred  calm,  a  noble  and  kingly  aspect, —  Louis 
XV.,  perhaps  still  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed, 
remains  a  type  of  the  ancient  régime,  an  incarnation 
of  that  monarchy  Avhich,  despite  its  visible  deca¬ 
dence,  has  still  its  vestiges  of  grace  and  decorum,  of 
force  and  authority.  He  is  a  debauchee.  But  he 
is  in  fact  neither  better  nor  worse  than  many  old 
Celadons,  many  veterans  of  Cythera,  many  super¬ 
annuated  seducers  who  would  think  themselves  abso¬ 
lutely  dead  if  they  had  no  more  mistresses.  Learned 
magistrates  themselves  play  their  pranks.  They 
have  their  little  houses,  enlarged  boudoirs,  temples 
of  voluptuous  pleasure.  The  epicurean  eighteenth 
century  is  only  half  displeased  with  royal  debauchery. 
They  scoff  at  it,  and  the  monarchical  principle  is 


THE  KING 


13 


stricken  far  less  by  violent  attacks  than  by  an  arm 
possibly  more  to  be  dreaded, —  that  of  ridicule. 
When,  at  Mass  in  the  chapel  of  Versailles,  I  see 
Louis  XV.  praying  very  seriously  in  the  royal  trib¬ 
une,  not  far  from  his  unworthy  favorite,  who  is  there 
without  rouge  or  powder,  without  even  having  made 
her  toilette,  I  can  scarcely  keep  from  shrugging  my 
shoulders. 

As  to  the  old  King,  quite  proud  of  his  victory 
over  Parliament,  he  thinks  this  stroke  has  assured 
him  a  long  and  peaceable  old  age.  In  his  previsions 
he  allots  himself  several  more  years  of  pleasure. 
Then,  he  tells  himself,  will  come  the  time  of  repent¬ 
ance  and  penance  and  true  piety,  when  he  will  be 
the  Most  Christian  King  in  more  than  name.  How 
many  old  men  there  are  who  thus  put  off  the  hour  of 
final  conversion,  while  displaying  an  interior  respect 
for  religion  very  slightly  hypocritical!  This  half¬ 
piety,  this  rough  sketch  of  virtue,  this  penitence  in 
the  shape  of  contingent  future,  we  find  in  many 
souls.  What  is  feebler,  more  inconsistent,  than 
human  nature?  We  elbow  men  like  Louis  XV.  at 
every  step.  All,  or  nearly  all,  the  lady-killers 
resemble  the  lover  of  the  Du  Barry  when  they  grow 
old,  and  there  are  few  of  them  who,  while  still 
retaining  their  health  and  plenty  of  money,  consent 
to  become  hermits,  no  matter  what  their  age. 

The  dominant  sentiment  with  regard  to  the  King 
is  not  hatred,  but  indifference.  People  are  going  to 
let  him  die  peaceably,  and  will  behold,  without  anger 


14 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


and  without  emotion,  the  setting  of  this  wintry  sun, 
devoid  of  warmth  and  radiance.  Those  who  are 
impatient  long  for  a  new  reign.  Those  who  are 
wiser  think  the  future  Louis  XVI.  too  young.  After 
all,  Louis  XV.,  in  spite  of  his  errors,  faults,  and 
vices,  is  a  man  of  experience,  a  man  of  government. 
And  when  will  the  Dauphin  know  anything?  How 
much  time  does  he  not  need  in  order  to  learn  the 
most  elementary  principles  of  the  difficult  art  of 
reigning?  He  may  have  excellent  intentions,  he 
will  be  honest  and  virtuous.  But  this  is  not  enough. 
The  task  will  be  too  heavy  a  one  for  young  shoulders. 
And  hence  Maria  Theresa,  that  woman  of  genius, 
that  sure-eyed  sovereign,  fears  nothing  so  much  as 
the  death  of  the  decried  monarch,  Louis  XV.  As 
king  if  not  as  man,  the  old  man  is  still  preferable 
to  the  child. 


II 


THE  NOBILITY 


HERE  are  two  parties  among  the  nobles:  the 


JL  conservatives  and  the  liberals,  the  men  of  the 
past  and  the  men  of  the  future.  The  first  declare 
for  the  alliance  of  the  throne  and  the  altar,  respect 
for  all  ancient  usages,  and  the  absolute  maintenance 
of  etiquette.  Irreconcilable  adversaries  of  philoso¬ 
phy,  Anglomania,  and  the  Encyclopedia,  they  regard 
the  changes  in  costume,  the  abandonment  of  liveries, 
the  vogue  of  foreign  fashions,  with  annoyance  and 
contempt.  The  second,  uniting  to  the  advantages 
of  patrician  rank  the  convenient  charms  of  indepen¬ 
dence,  joyfully  adopt  the  cabriolets,  the  frock  coats, 
the  simplicity  of  English  dress.  They  applaud  re¬ 
publican  tirades  at  the  theatres,  the  subversive  dis¬ 
courses  of  the  academies,  the  anti-Christian  theories 
of  the  philosophers.  They  speak  of  the  old  social 
edifice  as  Gothic  architecture.  Their  rank  and 
privileges,  the  débris  of  their  former  puissance,  are 
being  undermined  beneath  their  feet.  What  of  it? 
This  “little  war,”  as  Count  de  Ségur  says,  pleases 
and  diverts  them.  They  do  not  feel  its  attacks  as 


15 


16 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


yet;  they  only  see  the  spectacle.  Slaves  of  fashion, 
they  go  to  pay  court  to  D’Alembert,  Diderot,  Mar- 
montel,  Raynal,  a  word  of  praise  from  whom  they 
prefer  to  the  favor  of  a  prince  of  the  blood.  Equality 
begins  to  make  its  appearance  in  the  world.  On 
many  occasions,  literary  tables  take  precedence  over 
those  of  nobility.  In  high  society  one  often  sees 
second  or  third  rate  literary  men  treated  with  a 
consideration  and  attention  not  obtained  by  pro¬ 
vincial  nobles.  But  let  no  one  be  deceived  —  all 
this  democratic,  almost  republican  machinery,  is  as 
yet  simply  an  optical  illusion.  Ancient  usage,  as 
the  same  liberal  Count  de  Ségur  again  affirms,  pre¬ 
serves  between  the  nobility  and  the  middle  classes 
an  immense  interval  which  even  men  of  the  most 
distinguished  talents  cross  in  appearance  rather  than 
in  reality.  There  is  more  familiarity  than  equality. 
The  great  trees  which  are  unconsciously  losing  their 
roots  are  still  very  proud  of  their  foliage.  Family 
splendors,  great  households,  feudal  existences,  attri¬ 
butes  of  power,  all  seem  vivacious  and  eternal.  The 
classes  of  the  old  social  order,  with  their  hierarchy, 
their  luxury,  their  blazons,  their  riches  and  power, 
are  like  “those  brilliant  pictures  formed  of  a  thou¬ 
sand  colors  and  traced  with  sand  on  the  crystals  of 
our  festivities,  wherein  one  may  admire  magnificent 
castles,  gay  landscapes,  and  rich  harvests,  which  the 
lightest  breath  would  be  enough  to  efface  and  cause 
to  disappear.” 

Do  not  believe,  moreover,  that  the  nobility,  in 


THE  NOBILITY 


17 


spite  of  its  decadence,  has  lost  its  former  prestige. 
No,  it  is  still  elegant,  loyal,  full  of  courtesy  and 
politeness.  The  most  insignificant  of  the  provincial 
gentry  preserve  their  traditions.  They  have  fre¬ 
quented  the  salons  of  the  commandant  or  intendant, 
they  have  met  on  a  visit  some  ladies  of  Versailles. 
Hence  they  all  have  some  inkling  of  the  changes  in 
dress  and  fashion.  “The  most  uncivilized  of  them 
accompanies  his  departing  guests,  hat  in  hand,  to  the 
foot  of  his  front  steps,  thanking  them  for  the  honor 
they  have  done  him.  The  most  clownish,  being  near 
a  woman,  furbishes  up  from  the  depths  of  his  memory 
some  remnant  of  chivalrous  gallantry.  The  poorest 
and  most  retired  is  careful  of  his  coat  of  ‘king’s- 
blue  ’  and  his  cross  of  St.  Louis  so  that  he  may,  on 
occasion,  pay  his  respects  to  the  neighboring  great 
lord  or  the  prince  on  his  travels.”1  The  nobles  of 
the  court,  too  futile,  dissipated,  and  Voltairean,  must 
not  cause  us  to  forget  the  provincial  nobles  who  live 
quietly,  collected,  austere,  respecting  principles, 
usages,  and  dogmas,  enduring  an  honorable  poverty 
without  complaint,  unwilling  to  go  begging  favors  at 
Versailles,  and  preparing  in  retreat  to  support  nobly 
the  storms  whose  approach  they  forebode  already. 


1  M.  Taine,  Les  Origines  de  la  France  Contemporaine. 


Ill 


THE  CLERGY 


UST  as  we  find  in  the  ranks  of  aristocracy,  at 


tJ  the  side  of  a  court  nobility  too  often  corrupt 
and  frivolous,  a  provincial  nobility  which  guards 
faithfully  the  traditions  of  honor  and  the  austere 
virtues,  so  at  the  side  of  worldly  prelates  there  are 
honest,  convinced,  venerable  priests  who  continue  to 
edify  the  country.  In  the  clergy,  as  in  the  nobility, 
I  distinguish  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  unbelieving 
and  the  faithful,  the  men  who  give  scandal  and  the 
men  of  good  will.  Doubtless  there  are  many  reforms 
to  make,  many  abuses  to  suppress.  The  princes 
of  the  Church,  possessors  of  feudal  rights,  heirs  or 
successors  of  the  ancient  prince-sovereigns  of  the 
country,  the  hundred  and  thirty-one  bishops  and 
archbishops,  the  seven  hundred  commendatory  abbés, 
with  their  worldly  airs,  their  opulence,  their  great 
households,  are  not  all  models.  I  could  name  more 
than  one  prelate  who  not  only  has  mistresses,  clients, 
guests,  a  levee,  an  antechamber,  ushers,  and  offices, 
but  who  completes  his  resemblance  to  the  great 
nobles  by  having  debts.  The  Marquis  de  Mirabeau 


18 


THE  CLERGY 


19 


wrote  in  1766:  “It  would  be  an  insult  to  offer  a 
curacy  to  the  majority  of  ecclesiastics  with  preten¬ 
sions.  Revenues  and  distinction  are  for  commenda¬ 
tory  abbés,  for  clergymen  who  have  only  received 
the  tonsure,  for  the  numerous  chapters.”  There  are 
prelates  who  have  an  income  of  half  a  million. 
People  talk  of  one  bishop’s  hunting-equipage,  of 
another’s  confessionals  hung  with  satin,  of  the 
kitchen  utensils  in  solid  silver  belonging  to  a 
third.  In  salons  and  boudoirs  I  constantly  meet 
these  court  abbés,  who  have  nothing  of  the  priest 
about  them  but  the  habit,  and  who  do  not  always 
wear  that, — anacreontic  abbés,  flatterers  of  great 
ladies,  admirers  of  the  philosophers,  newsmongers, 
makers  of  little  verses.  But  these  are  not  the  true 
clergy.  The  true  clergy  are  found  in  the  modest 
presbyteries  of  towns,  and  especially  of  villages. 
Yes,  if  I  know  the  pompous  aristocratic  prelate,  man 
of  the  world,  man  of  the  salon,  man  of  the  court, 
mounting  more  willingly  the  marble  staircases  of 
Versailles  than  the  steps  of  the  altar,  I  also  know 
the  humble,  poor,  resigned  priest,  the  man  of  devo¬ 
tion,  duty,  sacrifice,  abnegation,  the  man  of  God. 
If  I  meet  the  bishop  proud  of  liis  gold  cross,  I  also 
salute  the  country  curate  who  goes,  staff  in  hand, 
several  leagues  on  foot  through  mud  and  snow. 
Doubtless  there  are  certain  convents  of  women  whose 
profane  aspect  makes  them  resemble  aristocratic 
circles,  meeting-places  for  elegant  society.  But  on 
the  other  hand  there  are  veritable  convents,  holy  and 


20 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


religious  asylums.  One  of  the  daughters  of  Louis 
XV.,  Madame  Louise  of  France,  has  become  a  Car¬ 
melite,  and  the  Carmelites  make  no  compromise  with 
austerity.  There  exist,  I  admit  it,  certain  preachers 
more  intent  on  the  Encyclopedia  than  on  the  Gospel, 
who  resemble  academicians  more  than  priests.  There 
are,  I  am  told,  some  who  forget  to  make  the  sign  of 
the  cross  when  they  enter  the  pulpit,  omit  all  prayer, 
and  turn  their  sermon  into  a  sort  of  lecture. 
Bachaumont  tells  us  that  this  is  called  preaching  à 
la  Greek.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  ener¬ 
getic,  convinced  preachers,  in  whose  eloquent  mouths 
the  sacred  terrors  of  doctrine  are  not  enfeebled,  men 
of  faith  and  courage  who,  like  the  Apostles,  exclaim 
when  confronted  with  scandal  :  “  It  is  impossible  not 
to  speak.  Non  possumus  non  loqui.  In  a  piously 
audacious  sermon,  the  Bishop  of  Alais,  dividing 
society  into  two  classes,  that  which  has  all  and 
that  which  has  nothing,  asks  why  so  enormous  a 
privilege  is  excused  by  so  little  virtue.  One  day 
the  Abbé  de  Beauvais,  preaching  in  the  chapel  of 
Versailles  in  presence  of  the  King,  censures  the 
shameful  life  of  libertines.  At  the  close  of  the 
sermon,  Louis  XV.,  apostrophizing  Marshal  de  Riche¬ 
lieu,  said  to  the  old  coxcomb:  “Eh!  Marshal,  it 
seems  to  me  the  preacher  has  been  throwing  a  good 
many  stones  into  your  garden.”  —  “Yes,  Sire,”  re¬ 
turned  the  sly  courtier,  “and  some  of  them  even 
bounced  over  into  the  park  of  Versailles.”  Still, 
the  evangelical  tradition  continues  in  spite  of 


THE  CLERGY 


21 


everything.  Even  in  the  most  relaxed,  corrupt, 
perverse  epochs,  there  are  always  hidden  treasures, 
inexhaustible  sources  of  charity  and  virtue,  if  not  on 
the  surface  at  least  in  the  depths  of  Christianity. 
No,  no,  messieurs  the  philosophers,  do  not  confound 
the  Church,  the  holy  Church,  with  certain  simoniacal 
priests  and  contraband  abbés  who  are  her  reproach. 
Reckon  up  how  many  faithful  servants  of  Christ, 
helpers  of  the  poor,  consolers  of  the  afflicted,  there 
yet  remain  in  cities  and  country  places,  in  every 
town  and  village.  True,  there  have  been  great 
scandals,  abuses  from  which  Christian  souls  have 
suffered  profoundly.  Nevertheless,  when  the  hour 
of  supreme  crisis  shall  arrive,  you  will  see  how  many 
priests  will  know  how  to  die  like  martyrs,  like  the 
early  Christians.  You  who  think  the  clergy  ended, 
will  soon  be  astonished  at  the  number  of  its  heroic 
and  intrepid  men.  When  the  tempest  comes,  you 
will  recognize  the  worth  and  ability  of  this  clergy. 
You  think  now  that  the  Church  has  grown  old. 
Well,  she  will  grow  young  again  if  need  be,  in 
persecution.  She  will  have  her  second  baptism,  if 
that  is  necessary,  which  will  efface  all  stains  ;  it  will 
be  the  baptism  of  blood  ! 


IV 


THE  MAGISTRACY 


SEE  the  same  contrasts  in  the  magistracy  as  in 


_L  the  nobility  and  the  clergy.  Beside  magis¬ 
trates  of  the  old  stamp,  grave,  austere,  preserving 
the  tradition  and  sentiment  of  duty,  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  professional  dignity,  I  encounter  with  regret 
epicurean  and  Voltairean  magistrates,  men  of  intrigue 
and  pleasure,  light,  superficial,  partisans  of  revolu¬ 
tionary  ideas,  preparing  unawares  the  downfall  of 
the  throne  as  well  as  the  altar,  and  not  even  suspect¬ 
ing  the  weight  of  the  blows  they  are  aiming  at  them. 
It  is  only  in  appearance  that  they  uphold  justice. 
In  reality  they  are  nothing  but  agents  of  dissolu¬ 
tion.  They  do  not  even  trouble  themselves  to  be 
hypocrites.  The  same  men  who  break  Calas  on  the 
wheel  and  decapitate  La  Barre,  place  Voltaire’s  La 
Pucelle  on  the  tables  of  their  drawing-rooms,  and  are 
the  guests  and  flatterers  of  materialists  and  atheists. 
If  a  book  is  condemned  to  be  burned,  the  condemna¬ 
tion  makes  the  magistrates  who  pronounce  it  smile. 
“Injunctions  are  decried,”  says  Bachaumont,  “a 
witticism  refutes  a  sermon,  and  if  Parliament  med- 


22 


THE  MAGISTRACY 


23 


dies  with  it,  they  glory  in  the  honors  of  the  burning. 
It  is  no  longer  a  punishment,  but  an  advertisement. 
Moreover,  do  not  fancy  that  the  executioner  of  lofty 
works  has  permission  to  throw  into  the  fire  the  books 
whose  names  appear  in  the  decree  of  the  court. 
Messieurs  would  be  very  sorry  to  deprive  their 
libraries  of  a  copy  of  each  of  these  works  to  which 
they  have  a  legal  right,  and  the  clerk  of  the  court 
substitutes  for  them  some  pettifogging  parchments 
of  which  there  is  never  any  lack.”1 

Those  members  of  the  judiciary  who  hold  a  middle 
rank  between  the  higher  nobility  and  the  middle 
classes,  who  are  rich,  influential,  and  allied  to  the 
most  powerful  families  in  France  ;  those  great  nobles 
of  the  robe  each  of  whom  has  his  little  Versailles,  a 
fine  house  between  court  and  garden,  and  who  are  to 
the  magistracy  what  the  prelates  are  to  the  clergy  ; 
these  parliamentary  leaders  gradually  become  the  most 
redoubtable  enemies  of  the  monarchy.  Louis  XV. 
has  them  in  horror.  Ever  since  the  time  of  Madame 
de  Pompadour  he  has  considered  them  his  most  dan¬ 
gerous  enemies.  “  Those  long  robes  and  the  clergy,” 
he  said  one  day  to  the  favorite,  “  are  always  at  drawn 
swords  ;  they  torment  me  by  their  quarrels  ;  but  I 
detest  the  long  robes  far  the  most.  My  clergy  at 
bottom  are  attached  to  me  and  loyal  ;  the  others 
would  like  to  tutor  me.  .  .  .  The  Regent  was  much 
to  blame  for  giving  them  the  right  to  make  remon- 


1  Grimm,  Correspondance  littéraire,  1770. 


24 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


strances  ;  they  will  end  by  ruining  the  State.”  — 
“  Ah  !  Sire,”  remarked  M.  de  Gontaut,  “  it  is  rather 
too  strong  for  petty  lawyers  to  overthrow.”  —  “You 
do  not  know  what  they  are  doing  nor  what  they  can 
do,”  resumed  the  King  ;  “  it  is  an  assembly  of  repub¬ 
licans.  Enough  of  that,  however.  Things  will  last 
as  long  as  I  do.”  1 

Disorder  exists  already  in  the  ruling  classes.  Mon¬ 
tesquieu  has  written  it  :  “  There  are  three  estates  in 
France,  the  Church,  the  sword,  and  the  robe.  Each  of 
them  has  a  sovereign  contempt  for  the  two  others.  ” 
One  of  Louis  XV.’s  ministers  of  foreign  affairs,  the 
Marquis  d’Argenson,  has  foretold  what  must  be  the 
certain  end  of  this  régime  of  divisions  and  perpetual 
conflicts  of  power.  “  Who,”  he  writes,  “  will  decide 
this  question  in  the  future,  to  wit,  whether  despotism 
will  increase  or  diminish  in  France?  For  my  part,  I 
hold  for  the  advent  of  the  second  article,  and  even  for 
republicanism.  Louis  XV.  has  not  known  how  to 
govern  either  tyrannically  or  like  a  good  republican 
leader;  now,  here,  when  one  takes  neither  one  rôle 
nor  the  other,  woe  to  royal  authority.  .  .  .  The  peo¬ 
ples  have  grown  very  fond  of  parliaments,  seeing  in 
them  the  only  remedy  for  the  vexations  they  endure 
from  another  quarter.  All  this  points  to  some  revolt 
which  is  smouldering  under  the  ashes.”  In  1752  the 
same  Marquis  d’Argenson  had  traced  these  prophetic 
lines  :  “  The  bad  results  of  our  government  by  abso- 


1  Memoirs  of  Madame  du  Hausset. 


THE  MAGISTRACY 


25 


lute  monarchy  have  succeeded  in  convincing  France 
and  all  Europe  that  it  is  the  very  worst  kind  of  govern¬ 
ment.  I  do  not  mean  the  same  thing  as  the  philoso¬ 
phers,  who  say  that  anarchy  itself  would  be  prefer¬ 
able.  However,  the  opinion  is  growing  and  making 
its  way,  and  that  may  bring  about  a  national  revo¬ 
lution.” 

A  noisy  and  active  revolution  is  forming  itself 
against  the  Church  in  the  very  bosom  of  Catholicism, 
and  against  royalty  in  that  of  the  magistracy  and  the 
parliamentarian  middle  classes.  A  sort  of  league  is 
established  between  all  the  parliaments  of  France, 
which  consider  themselves  as  the  different  groups  of 
a  single  assembly,  the  several  members  of  an  invisible 
body.  Louis  XV.,  energetic  at  times,  awakes  from 
his  torpor  and  comprehends  the  necessity  of  striking 
a  great  blow.  During  the  night  of  January  19, 1771, 
all  the  members  of  the  Paris  Parliament  who,  through 
a  spirit  of  opposition,  were  refusing  to  render  justice, 
are  arrested  in  their  beds  and  summoned  to  give  a 
plain  yes  or  no  to  an  order  requiring  them  to  resume 
their  ordinary  functions.  They  answer  no,  and  are 
sent  into  exile.  The  people  remain  quiet,  and  the 
dissolved  Parliament  gives  place  without  resistance 
to  the  new  Maupeou  Parliament,  so  called  from  the 
name  of  the  chancellor.  Louis  XV.  thinks  himself 
more  powerful  than  Louis  XIV.,  the  chancellor 
stronger  than  Richelieu.  Madame  de  Pompadour  had 
overthrown  the  Jesuits.  Madame  Du  Barry  has  over¬ 
thrown  the  parliamentarians  ;  in  other  words,  the 


26 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Janséniste.  The  rival  parties,  Jesuits  and  Janséniste, 
having  disappeared,  would  not  one  suppose  that  the 
absolute  monarchy  would  remain  standing  alone 
above  their  ruins  ?  But  that  is  merely  an  optical 
illusion.  The  Maupeou  Parliament  is  discredited, 
and  power  sustains  it  but  feebly.  It  allows  the  affair 
of  Beaumarchais  against  Counsellor  Goëzman,  —  an 
affair  so  trifling  in  itself  but  so  important  on  account 
of  the  noise  it  makes,  —  to  take  truly  incredible 
proportions.  The  terrible  and  dramatic  Polish  ques¬ 
tion  preoccupies  Versailles  and  Paris  less  than  the 
wretched  quarrel  between  the  author  of  the  Barber  of 
Seville  and  one  of  his  judges,  or  rather,  the  wife  of 
one  of  them. 

What  was  it  all  about?  To  know  whether  the 
wife  of  a  counsellor  of  Parliament  had  or  had  not 
kept  fifteen  louis  received  from  a  litigant.  Why, 
then,  such  passion  and  excitement  in  the  public? 
Why  this  feverish  anxiety,  this  mad  curiosity  with 
which  all  Paris,  all  France,  follows  the  vicissitudes 
of  this  trial  ?  Because  the  affair  is  symbolical.  What 
is  at  stake  is  less  the  Goëzman  household  than  the 
whole  Maupeou  Parliament.  It  is  the  magistracy 
that  I  see  on  the  prisoner’s  bench,  and  not  Beaumar¬ 
chais.  It  is  the  accused  who,  by  an  inversion  of 
roles,  appears  as  counsel  for  the  King,  —  what  do  I 
say  ?  —  as  counsel  for  that  new  power,  opinion.  His 
statements  are  the  public  prosecutor’s  speeches.  The 
cause  is  as  much  political  as  judicial.  The  old  social 
edifice  is  cracking  and  undermined  on  every  side. 


THE  MAGISTRACY 


27 


All  the  springs  of  the  old  machine  are  out  of  order. 
And  instead  of  lamenting  over  this,  the  privileged 
classes  do  nothing  but  laugh.  The  Goëzman  trial  is 
a  comedy  which  entertains  the  boxes  as  much  as  it 
does  the  pit.  I  am  not  sure  that  Louis  XV.  himself, 
hard  as  it  is  to  divert  him,  is  not  cheered  up  by  it. 
It  certainly  amuses  Madame  Du  Barry  extremely. 
She  has  charades  at  her  house  in  which  Madame 
Goëzman  and  Beaumarchais  are  confronted  with 
each  other.  Beaumarchais  is  the  centre  of  all  eyes, 
the  fashionable  man,  the  hero  of  the  day.  “  I  am 
afraid,”  writes  Voltaire,  “that  this  brilliant  fellow 
may  be  in  the  right  against  everybody.  .  .  .  His 
naïveté  enchants  me  ’’(the  naïveté  of  Beaumarchais  !). 
“  I  forgive  him  his  imprudence  and  petulance.” 

The  conclusion  of  the  most  serious  act  or  the  most 
important  treaty  of  peace  would  be  awaited  with  less 
impatience  than  the  issue  of  this  trial,  which  preoccu¬ 
pies,  if  one  can  believe  it,  both  peoples  and  kings,  — 
so  entirely  does  France,  in  spite  of  her  decline,  retain 
in  the  last  years  of  Louis  XV.  the  privilege  of  con¬ 
centrating  the  attention  of  all  Europe  on  what  is  pass¬ 
ing  within  her  borders.  “Judgment  at  last!”  .  .  . 
as  says  the  Chicaneau  in  Racine’s  Plaideurs.  Feb¬ 
ruary  26,  1774,  after  seven  months  of  waiting,  the 
sentence  is  pronounced.  Madame  Goëzman  is  con¬ 
demned  to  formal  censure  (le  blâme')  and  to  the  resti¬ 
tution  of  the  fifteen  louis,  which  are  to  be  distributed 
among  the  poor.  Beaumarchais  is  also  condemned 
to  censure.  Le  blâme  is  not  a  slight  penalty,  but 


28 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


an  infamous  one,  a  penalty  which  renders  him  who 
is  stricken  by  it  incapable  of  fulfilling  any  pub¬ 
lic  function  ;  the  condemned  receives  the  sentence 
kneeling,  in  presence  of  the  court,  while  the  presi¬ 
dent  says  to  him  :  “  The  court  censures  thee  and 
declares  thee  infamous.”  Well!  the  man  whom  the 
Maupeou  Parliament  thinks  it  can  thus  stamp  with 
infamy,  is  a  victor  ;  all  Paris  goes  to  leave  cards  at 
the  house  of  the  condemned  man.  The  Prince  de 
Conti  and  the  Duke  de  Chartres  give  him  a  brilliant 
entertainment  the  day  after  sentence  is  decreed.  M. 
de  Sartines  says  to  him  :  “  One  should  be  modest 
even  though  one  has  been  censured.”  The  opposi¬ 
tion,  silenced  for  a  moment,  starts  up  anew.  A  rain 
of  pamphlets  and  diatribes  begins  against  this  Mau¬ 
peou  Parliament  which,  by  inflicting  civil  death  on  a 
man  upheld  by  public  opinion,  has  given  itself  a  mor¬ 
tal  blow.  Its  days,  like  those  of  the  old  King,  are 
numbered.  As  to  Louis  XV.,  judging  Beaumarchais 
from  the  address  just  displayed  by  this  clever  man  in 
the  Goëzman  trial,  he  intrusts  him  with  a  secret  mis¬ 
sion  to  England.  When  discordances  like  these  exist 
in  any  society,  catastrophes  are  not  far  distant. 


V 


THE  MIDDLE  CLASSES 


URIOUS  thing  !  The  revolution  does  not 


start  from  below,  but  from  above.  The  classes 
which  suffer  and  are  hungry  are  resigned  and 
silent.  The  privileged  classes,  those  who  gorge 
themselves  with  gold  and  pleasures  in  the  midst  of 
public  distress,  are  those  that  complain  and  make  an 
uproar.  The  higher  up  you  go  on  the  social  ladder, 
the  less  faith  and  virtue  do  you  find.  The  people 
are  better  than  the  middle  classes,  the  middle  classes 
better  than  the  nobility,  the  provincial  nobles  better 
than  those  of  the  court,  the  lower  clergy  superior  to 
the  prelates.  One  might  say  that,  morality  being  in 
an  inverse  ratio  to  rank,  the  most  dangerous  adver¬ 
saries  of  society  are  the  very  persons  who  have  most 
to  lose  if  it  succumbs.  The  great  proprietors  are 
demolishing  their  houses  and  castles.  The  prelates 
are  sapping  the  foundations  of  the  churches.  The 
princes  of  the  blood  are  shaking  down  the  throne. 
Thus  it  is  that  the  so-called  defenders  of  the  social 
fortress  are  spiking  their  cannons,  destroying  their 
ramparts,  dampening  their  powder,  breaking  their 


29 


30 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


weapons,  and  will  end  by  delivering  the  key  of  the 
citadel  to  the  enemy. 

A  large  majority  of  the  middle  classes  are  still 
resisting  the  inroads  of  impiety.  In  Paris  and  the 
provinces  they  say  :  “  Without  monarchy  and  the 
Church,  no  government.”  In  religion  and  politics, 
even  if  they  are  on  the  side  of  the  opposition,  they 
do  not  go  beyond  the  liberties  of  the  Gallican  Church 
and  the  constitutional  guaranties  demanded  by  the 
parliaments.  Even  though  they  have  ceased  to  love 
and  esteem  Louis  XV.,  they  continue  to  respect  roy¬ 
alty  in  his  person.  Dignified,  calm,  reflective,  they 
will  neither  make  war  on  the  nobles  nor  pay  them 
court.  As  to  the  monarchy,  they  consider  it  as  a 
dogma,  an  article  of  faith.  Citizen  Regnaud  thus 
expresses  himself  :  “  It  is  a  law  of  the  State,  conse¬ 
crated  in  every  age  by  the  Divine  law,  to  respect  the 
sovereign  even  when  he  causes  the  unhappiness  of 
the  peoples  confided  to  him  by  Providence.  God 
forbid  that  I  should  undertake  to  infringe  this  sacred 
law  in  the  history  I  am  writing.”  1 

Another  citizen,  Prosper  Hardy,  makes  the  follow¬ 
ing  declaration  in  his  Memoirs  :  “  Although  I  have 
never  regarded  myself  as  other  than  an  atom  in 
society,  I  think  I  deserve  a  distinguished  place  there 
by  my  inviolable  fidelity  to  my  sovereign  and  my 
love  for  his  sacred  person.  The  sentiments  I  imbibed 


1  Manuscript  Memoirs  of  Regnaud,  procureur  to  the  Parliament 
of  Paris  at  tlie  time  of  the  coup  d'État  of  1771. 


THE  MIDDLE  CLASSES 


31 


from  books  and  education  will  never  be  effaced  from 
mj  heart.  Albeit  my  fortune,  by  the  will  of  Divine 
Providence,  is  of  the  most  modest  sort,  a  prospective 
income  of  a  hundred  thousand  ecus  would  not  cause 
me  to  forsake  a  boon  which  is  dear  to  me  and  of 
which  I  cannot  be  deprived  ;  to  wit,  honor  and  true 
patriotism.  I  shall  always  believe  it  my  duty  to 
think  concerning  the  present  controversies  as  the 
first  magistrates  of  the  realm  do  and  the  princes  of 
the  royal  blood,  who  have  manifested  their  senti¬ 
ments  toward  our  august  master  in  a  manner  as  au¬ 
thentic  as  respectful,  and  in  a  formal  protest  to  which 
no  good  citizen  can  avoid  paying  homage  and  sub¬ 
scribing  with  all  his  soul.” 1  The  opposition  still 
remained  dynastic.  It  enveloped  itself  in  forms 
most  deferential  toward  the  person  and  authority 
of  the  sovereign.  Hardy  blames  the  ministers  for 
the  harm  that  has  been  done,  without  accusing 
Louis  XV.  He  complains  of  despotism,  never  of 
the  King. 

If  in  the  depths  of  the  provinces  one  finds  ancient 
manors  and  dungeon  keeps  blackened  by  time  where¬ 
in  dwell  austere  and  worthy  nobles,  proud  of  their 
ancestors  and  their  poverty,  one  also  finds,  even  in 
worldly,  frivolous  Paris,  old  houses  which  shelter 
worthy  people,  peaceable  bourgeois ,  citizens  of  their 
quarter,  frequenters  of  their  parish  church,  members 
of  their  corporation,  who  still  lead  a  calm  and  patri- 


1  Manuscript  Memoirs  of  Siinéon  Prosper  Hardy. 


32 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


archal  existence.  Their  life  glides  uniformly  by, 
“  developing  like  a  captive  stream  its  predetermined 
course,  without  ever  losing  sight  of  the  shadow  of 
the  natal  bell-tower,  the  church  where  rest  the  pious 
souvenirs  of  the  family,  and  where  the  same  half¬ 
open  tomb  awaits  the  generations.  Between  this 
ever-present  term  and  this  point  of  departure  which 
is  drawing  near,  the  regulated  forms  of  professional 
duty  take  possession  of  the  man,  occupy  his  soul,  and 
replenish  the  capacity  of  his  spirit.”  1 

The  religious  sentiment  is  still  dominant,  even  at 
Paris,  in  the  middle  classes  and  the  people.  In  Feb¬ 
ruary,  1766,  Louis  XV.  is  crossing  the  Pont-Neuf 
after  leaving  a  bed  of  justice  he  has  just  held  at  the 
Parliament.  A  priest  carrying  the  Viaticum  passes 
in  front  of  the  cortège.  The  King  alights  from  his 
carriage  and  kneels  down.  This  mark  of  devotion 
causes  enthusiastic  admiration  in  the  crowd,  and  cries 
of  “  Long  live  the  King  !  ”  resound  from  every  side 
with  more  than  ordinary  enthusiasm. 

The  citizen  class  is  still  Christian  and  royalist. 
But  let  no  one  be  deceived.  It  also  threatens  to 
become  revolutionary.  Certain  characteristic  symp¬ 
toms  are  beginning  to  make  their  appearance.  The 
law  clerks  sometimes  assume  the  aspect  of  dema¬ 
gogues,  and  a  nameless  breath  of  democracy  often 
pervades  the  pits  of  theatres.  I  see  an  impatient 
youth  springing  up  amid  the  middle  classes  which 


1  M.  Charles  Aubertin,  L' Esprit  public  au  XVIIIe  siècle. 


THE  MIDDLE  CLASSES 


33 


will  bring  all  the  turmoil  of  the  new  spirit  into  the 
old  settings  of  a  disorganized  society.  The  opposi¬ 
tion  will  increase  by  degrees,  coming  down  from  one 
social  la}rer  to  another,  from  the  princes  of  the  blood 
to  the  popular  masses  who  are  as  yet  untouched. 


VI 


THE  PEOPLE 


O  you  see,  in  country  places,  a  sort  of  wild 


.  1  J  animal,  male  and  female,  “black,  livid,  and 
scorched  by  the  sun,  attached  to  the  earth  which 
they  dig  and  turn  over  with  invincible  obstinacy? 
They  have  a  kind  of  articulate  voice,  and  when  they 
rise  to  their  feet  they  show  a  human  face,  and  in 
fact  they  are  human  beings.  At  night  they  retire 
into  dens,  where  they  live  on  bread,  water,  and  roots. 
They  spare  other  men  the  trouble  of  sowing,  labor¬ 
ing,  and  reaping  in  order  to  live,  and  thus  deserve 
not  to  lack  some  of  the  bread  which  they  have 
sown.”  1 

Do  you  see  them,  notwithstanding,  “in  frightful 
misery,  without  beds  or  furniture  ;  the  majority  of 
them  even  lacking  that  bread  of  oats  and  barley 
which  is  their  sole  nourishment,  and  which  they  are 
obliged  to  tear  from  their  own  mouths  and  those  of 
their  children  to  pay  the  taxes”?2  Do  you  see 
“  these  poor  slaves,  these  beasts  of  burden  fastened 


1  La  Bruyère. 


2  Massillon. 


34 


THE  PEOPLE 


35 


to  a  yoke,  and  whipped  along”?1  These  unfortu¬ 
nates  who  in  years  of  famine  —  years  which  fre¬ 
quently  recur  —  eat  grass  like  sheep  and  die  like 
flies?  Well,  if  one  can  believe  it,  they  do  not  com¬ 
plain.  They  do  not  even  think  of  complaining. 
Their  sufferings  and  privations  seem  to  them  as 
natural  as  winter  or  the  hail.  They  do  not  complain. 
Why  not?  Because  if  they  have  not  the  bread  of 
the  body,  they  at  least  have  hope,  the  bread  of  the 
soul.  Yes,  the  hope  of  heaven,  the  hope  of  an  ideal 
world  which  hovers  above  the  real  one  like  a  pavilion 
of  gold  above  a  filthy  sewer,  the  hope  of  the  true 
country  where  there  are  neither  fatigues,  nor  tears, 
nor  sorrows,  —  hope,  their  support,  their  consolation, 
their  future  ;  hope,  that  supreme  good  which  the 
philosophers  are  determined  at  any  cost  to  wrench 
from  them  !  What  they  have  left,  and  what  the 
philosophers  have  no  longer,  is  the  sacred  poesy  of 
the  Church,  its  hymns  of  sadness  and  of  joy,  the 
cycle  of  its  feasts  which  vary  and  adorn  the  year. 
They  have  the  steeple  of  their  native  village,  the 
graveyard  where  their  parents  sleep  and  where  they 
offer  prayer,  the  crucifix,  the  image  of  the  Man-God 
whose  hands  and  feet  and  side  they  kiss  while  weeping. 
They  have  what  you  have  not,  men  of  the  world  and 
free-thinkers  :  the  real  good,  the  inestimable  treasure, 
that  which  subsists  entire  even  when  the  hell  is 
ringing  for  the  dying,  that  which  death  itself  has 


1  The  Marquis  d’Argenson. 


36 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


no  power  against  :  they  have  faith  !  The  angels  of 
Christ  hover  over  each  thatched  cabin,  the  angels 
who,  when  the  unfortunates  would  like  to  turn  away 
from  the  chalice  of  bitterness,  induce  them  to  drink 
it  calmly  and  with  resignation  even  to  the  dregs  ! 

Great  lords  and  ladies,  adepts  of  the  Encyclopedia, 
savants  and  literary  men,  be  careful  !  You  mock, 
perhaps,  at  these  poor  people.  You  criticise  what 
you  call  their  ignorance,  because  they  still  worship 
as  of  old,  because,  in  their  simplicity,  on  All  Saints’ 
Day  they  lay  a  plate  for  the  dead  on  their  wretched 
tables.  You  deride  them  because  when  they  have 
saved  a  few  farthings  they  spend  them,  —  for  what  ? 
In  order  to  burn  some  candles.  Take  care,  —  if  they 
did  not  burn  these  candles  which  you  sneer  at,  they 
would  burn  your  houses,  your  castles.  Don’t  flout 
these  people  who  are  and  have  little  or  nothing,  who 
are  the  majority,  and  who  would  only  have  to  crowd 
together  in  order  to  stifle  you.  Great  philosophers, 
why  do  you  not  try  to  make  your  discoveries  contrib¬ 
ute  somewhat  to  preserve  that  sacred  object,  the 
human  soul,  to  wrest  it  from  misery  and  cast  it,  con¬ 
soled,  pacified,  elevated,  into  the  bosom  of  God  ?  Ah  ! 
why  do  you  belong  to  that  frightful  race  of  men  who 
injure  souls?  Why  do  you  discourage  the  cabin 
where  men  die  of  hunger,  the  workshop  where  the 
proletarian,  become  a  wheel  of  flesh  in  a  machine,  can 
no  longer  breathe  the  air  of  God  nor  be  illumined  by 
His  sunshine  ?  Take  care  !  Take  care  !  What  will 
become  of  you  on  the  day  when  these  poor  people 


TUE  PEOPLE 


37 


say  to  you,  nobles  :  “You  are  men  like  others”;  to 
you,  prelates  :  “You  are  impostors.”  Take  care!  if 
your  impious  doctrines  triumph,  here  are  the  work¬ 
men,  the  peasants,  all  the  disinherited  of  fortune, 
who  will  cry  to  you  in  terrible  voices:  “No  more 
resignation,  vengeance  !  No  more  tears.  Muskets, 
and  if  there  are  no  muskets,  pikes  !  And  if  there  are 
no  pikes,  clubs  !  Enough  of  docility  !  Enough  of 
patience!  Enough  of  humility  !  Come  on!”  Mad¬ 
men  !  Fools  !  It  is  you  who  have  just  said  to  them  : 
“  Poor  wretch,  you  are  awaiting  life  eternal  to  find 
at  last  a  compensation  for  your  sufferings.  There  is 
no  eternal  life.  Poor  wretch,  you  are  amassing  as  if 
there  were  savings,  your  tears  and  sorrows,  and  those 
of  your  wife  and  your  children,  in  the  hope  of  bring¬ 
ing  them  after  death  to  the  foot  of  God’s  judgment 
seat.  Well,  there  is  no  God!”  Admirers  of  Hel¬ 
vétius,  Baron  d’Holbach,  Diderot,  great  philosophic 
nobles,  be  on  your  guard  !  on  the  day  when  your 
unbelief  shall  have  spread  beyond  your  salons,  your 
boudoirs,  and  academies,  into  the  cabins  of  your 
peasantry,  tremble,  for  that  day  will  be  the  ven¬ 
geance  of  heaven  ! 

It  is  the  people  they  lose  sight  of,  and  it  is  they 
above  all  who  should  never  be  forgotton.  It  is  in 
them  that  a  strong  and  intelligent  royalty  finds  its 
fulcrum,  its  natural  authority,  and  its  moral  prestige. 
It  is  the  people  who  give  their  sweat  and  blood  with¬ 
out  a  murmur.  It  is  the  people  who  in  times  of  peace 
and  times  of  war,  in  cities  and  country  places  and 


38 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


on  battle-fields,  utter  enthusiastically  and  with  all  the 
force  of  their  robust  lungs,  the  cry  which  sums  up  the 
unity  of  the  country,  the  cry  of  loyalty  and  patriot¬ 
ism  :  Long  live  the  King  !  Reforms  are  necessary. 
But  it  is  not  a  Voltairean  nobility  and  a  magistracy 
honeycombed  by  the  spirit  of  rebellion  which  can 
cause  order  and  liberty  to  triumph.  It  is  not  a  middle 
class  which,  after  all,  represents  only  a  feeble  minor¬ 
ity.  No.  It  is  the  people  taken  as  a  whole,  that  is 
to  say  the  entire  nation,  which  can  be  counted  on  for 
the  work  of  true  progress.  The  sovereign  reformers 
have  always  relied  on  the  people,  not  on  the  privi¬ 
leged  classes.  This  is  what  is  forgotten  in  the  apart¬ 
ments  of  Versailles.  People  busy  themselves  with 
the  surface  of  society,  not  with  its  depths.  They 
think  too  much  about  the  houses  of  the  Faubourg 
Saint  Germain,  about  academies,  salons,  castles,  pal¬ 
aces  of  justice,  and  not  enough  about  the  garrets  and 
thatched  cabins,  the  devout  and  honest  masses  who 
would  be  such  a  powerful  rampart  for  majesty 
against  the  invasions  of  a  revolution  half  aristo¬ 
cratic,  half  middle  class.  There  would  be  the  reju¬ 
venescence  and  the  future  of  the  monarchy.  The 
King  should  appear,  not  merely  to  the  ruling 
classes,  but  to  the  mass  of  his  subjects,  as  a  pro¬ 
tector,  friend,  and  father.  Louis  XV.  does  not 
remember  often  enough  that  of  all  classes  of  soci¬ 
ety  in  the  eighteenth  century,  the  best,  most  worthy, 
most  patriotic,  is  that  of  the  poor,  the  humble,  the 
workmen,  peasants,  and  laborers.  Among  them  is 


THE  PEOPLE 


39 


found  the  basis  of  honesty,  industry,  and  piety,  the 
compensation  for  the  scandals  of  the  court  and  the 
city,  beautiful  souls  under  rude  envelopes.  There,  if 
royalty  comprehended  the  situation,  it  would  find  the 
consolidation  of  the  throne  and  the  welfare  of  the 
country. 


VII 

POLITICAL  WOMEN 

AT  Versailles,  Paris,  and  throughout  the  realm, 
the  women  are  playing  a  part  which  constantly 
increases  in  importance.  At  Versailles  they  domi¬ 
nate  Louis  XV.  and  his  ministers  ;  at  Paris  they  are 
the  recognized  arbiters  of  fashion,  literature,  and 
the  arts.  Throughout  the  realm  they  avenge  them¬ 
selves  for  the  Salic  law.  In  1770  Collé  wrote  in  his 
Memoirs  :  “  The  women  have  taken  the  upper  hand 
so  completely  among  the  French,  they  have  subju¬ 
gated  the  men  so  completely  that  they  no  longer 
think  or  feel  except  in  accordance  with  them.”  Not 
all  the  influential  women  are  coquettish,  light, 
superficial,  the  women  of  Marivaux.  Some  of  them 
are  frivolous,  but  others  are  serious.  There  are 
religious  women,  mothers  in  Israel,  friends  of  the 
Jesuits,  irreconcilable  enemies  of  the  Encyclopaedia  — 
such  women  as  the  Princess  de  Marsan,  who  in 
association  with  Madame  de  Talmont,  Madame  de 
Noailles,  and  the  Duke  de  Nivernais,  directs  what 
is  called  the  devout  party.  There  are  philosophical 
women,  eaten  up  by  the  new  fanaticism  of  irre- 

40 


POLITICAL  WOMEN 


41 


ligion,  who  plunge  head  foremost,  with  all  the  en¬ 
thusiasm  and  passion  of  their  sex,  into  the  abyss  of 
novel  doctrines.  There  are  scientific  women,  who 
assimilate  with  curious  facility  the  surface  of  the 
most  arduous  sciences,  and  manage  a  compass  as 
easily  as  a  fan,  who  place  dictionaries  of  natural 
history  and  treatises  on  physics  and  chemistry  in 
their  boudoirs  beside  a  little  altar  dedicated  to 
Benevolence  or  Friendship,  and  who  no  longer  have 
themselves  painted  as  alluring  goddesses  on  clouds, 
but  as  grave  and  meditative  muses  sitting  in  a  labo¬ 
ratory  amidst  squares  and  telescopes.  There  are  po¬ 
litical  women,  pupils  of  Rousseau,  admirers  of  the 
Contrat  Social ,  who  dream  of  being  the  Egerias  of 
future  Numas,  of  changing  their  armchairs  into 
tribunes,  and  their  salons  into  clubs,  who  ardently 
praise  the  parliamentary  system  of  the  other  side  of 
the  Channel,  and  declaim  like  good  citizenesses  — 
the  word  begins  to  be  in  fashion  —  against  the 
excesses  and  turpitudes  of  the  absolute  régime. 
They  want  to  pass  for  energetic  women  (energy  is 
another  word  becoming  acclimated  in  the  language 
of  high  society).  They  pose  as  patricians  of 
ancient  Rome,  impassioned  for  liberty.  Grave 
accents  proceed  from  their  delicate  mouths.  Elo¬ 
quent  protests  against  despotism  issue  from  the 
depths  of  boudoirs  hung  with  satin.  These  liberal 
great  ladies,  a  new  type  in  French  society,  make 
Gustavus  III.  of  Sweden  the  confidant  of  their 
wrath  against  Louis  XV.  Read  the  letters  of  the 


42 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


habitual  correspondents  of  the  Swedish  monarch, 
Mesdames  d’Egmont,  de  La  March,  de  Croy,  de 
Boufflers,  de  Mesmes,  de  Luxembourg,  and  see  with 
what  vigor  of  thought  and  vehemence  of  style  these 
ladies  express  themselves.1 

The  beautiful  and  spiritual  Countess  d’Egmont,  as 
grave  as  her  father,  Marshal  de  Richelieu,  is  frivo¬ 
lous,  a  charming  woman,  fated  to  an  early  death, 
whose  melancholy  and  whose  sufferings  inspire  such 
interest,  how  violent,  bitter,  indignant,  is  her  language 
concerning  the  Du  Barry’s  aged  lover  !  “  How  can 

one  endure,”  she  writes  to  Gustavus,  “that  he  who  has 
enjoyed  the  celestial  happiness  of  being  passionately 
adored,  and  who  would  still  be  so  if  he  had  left  us 
the  least  illusion,  should  please  himself  by  destroying 
every  one  of  them  and  look  on  such  a  change  with 
coolness  ?  ”  Again  she  writes  to  the  King  of  Sweden, 
June  27,  1771  :  “  Sire,  they  say  you  have  asked  for  a 
portrait  of  Madame  Du  Barry.  They  even  go  so  far 
as  to  say  that  you  have  written  to  her.  I  have  denied 
it  at  all  events  ;  but  it  has  been  maintained  against 
me  so  positively  that  I  entreat  you  to  authorize  me 
to  deny  it  again.  .  .  .  No,  that  could  not  be.”  And 
November  26,  1771  :  “  I  ask  again  for  an  answer 
about  Madame  Du  Barry’s  portrait.  Deign  to  give 
me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  have  not  and  never 
will  have  it,  for  I  am  greatly  pressed  to  offer  you 
mine.”  Madame  de  Boufflers  wrote  such  sentences  as 


1  Gustave  III.  et  la  cour  de  France,  by  M.  A.  Geffroy. 


POLITICAL  WOMEN 


43 


these  to  Gustavus  :  “  Absolute  power  is  a  mortal 
disease,  which  by  insensibly  corrupting  the  moral 
qualities,  ends  by  destroying  states.  .  .  .  The 
actions  of  sovereigns  are  submitted  to  the  censure  of 
the  universe.  .  .  .  France  is  ruined  if  the  present 
administration  lasts.” 

The  Countess  de  La  Marck  draws  this  picture  of 
society  in  a  letter  to  the  King  of  Sweden  :  “  Our 
young  women  are  bursting  with  wit;  as  for  reason, 
it  is  hardly  mentioned.  They  are  all  initiated  into 
State  secrets,  they  meddle  with  everything,  and 
make  love  by  way  of  pastime.  .  .  .  Certain  bureaus 
of  wit  where  people  mock  at  God  and  religion,  and 
consider  those  who  believe  imbeciles,  such,  in  short, 
Sire,  is  a  sketch  of  our  situation.  No  more  emula¬ 
tion,  no  more  principles  ;  even  to  the  theatres  every¬ 
thing  is  going  wrong.  We  still  have  one  or  two 
sculptors  and  three  or  four  painters.  The  jeweller’s 
trade  prospers  of  course  ;  but  it  will  soon  come  to  a 
standstill,  for  no  one  buys  anything  now  but  brill¬ 
iants  ;  to  be  sure,  they  do  not  pay  for  them.  In  a 
word,  we  are  as  low  down  as  we  can  get,  and  shall 
be  lucky  if  no  one  attacks  us,  for  I  do  not  know  what 
would  become  of  us.” 

The  impulse  is  given.  Henceforward  the  women 
will  be  in  opposition  to  power.  It  is  the  current  ; 
one  must  go  with  it.  The  principal  salons  of  Paris 
are  so  many  clubs  hostile  to  the  King.  Politics  in¬ 
vades  everything.  Besenval  says  :  “  Assemblies  of 
society  and  pleasure  have  become  petty  States-Gen- 


44 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


eral,  where  the  women,  transformed  into  legislators, 
lay  down  maxims  on  public  law  and  settle  principles 
with  the  audacity  and  assurance  imparted  by  the 
wish  to  dominate  and  make  themselves  observed,  a 
desire  heightened  still  further  by  the  importance  of 
the  matter  and  its  celebrity.  .  .  It  must  not  be 
believed,  however,  that  the  majority  of  these  eloquent 
stateswomen,  descanting  at  random  on  the  respective 
rights  of  the  throne  and  the  magistracy,  on  absolute 
power  and  liberty,  renounce  on  that  account  the 
ways  and  habitudes  of  coquetry,  of  what  is  called 
love.  Suspect  these  women,  serious  only  in  appear¬ 
ance.  Politics  is  the  pretext.  The  gist  of  the 
business  is  gallantry. 


VIII 


LOVE 


F  all  loves,  the  rarest  in  high  society  under  the 


\_S  reign  of  Louis  XV.  is  conjugal  love.  Well- 
bred  married  couples  are  on  the  footing  of  polite  and 
courteous  strangers  with  each  other.  The  husband 
calls  his  wife  Madame.  The  wife  calls  her  husband 
Monsieur.  They  live  in  the  same  house,  but  have 
separate  apartments  and  do  not  visit  each  other  with¬ 
out  being  previously  announced.  Never  do  they  ride 
in  the  same  carriage.  Never  are  they  met  in  the  same 
salon.  A  husband  who  should  follow  his  wife  would 
he  treated  as  a  jealous  provincial.  A  woman  who 
should  have  the  singular  idea  of  being  in  love  with 
her  husband  would  be  thought  ridiculous.  Such  a 
passion  in  good  society  would  be  indecorous.  Con¬ 
jugal  love  is  altogether  out  of  fashion.  Baron  de 
Besenval  considers  that  though  morals  may  suffer 
from  this,  society  is  an  infinite  gainer,  adding  that, 
“  freed  from  the  embarrassment  and  chill  always 
caused  by  the  presence  of  husbands,  there  is  extreme 
liberty,”  and  that  “  the  coquetry  of  men  and  women 
maintains  its  vivacity  and  daily  supplies  piquant 
adventures.” 


46 


46 


LAST  YE  AB  S  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Piquant  adventures  are  what  is  specially  sought 
for.  Passion,  people  care  little  about  ;  what  they  are 
looking  for  is  pleasure.  Listen  to  a  great  lady  say¬ 
ing,  in  1764,  to  young  Lauzun,  the  future  Lovelace, 
whose  erotic  education  is  not  yet  quite  finished  : 
“Believe  me,  little  cousin,  to  be  romantic  doesn’t 
succeed  nowadays  ;  it  makes  you  ridiculous,  and  then 
it  is  all  up  with  you.  I  have  had  a  great  fancy  for 
you,  my  child  ;  it  is  not  my  fault  if  you  have  taken 
it  for  a  grand  passion  and  persuaded  yourself  that  it 
would  never  end.  What  does  it  matter  to  you,  if 
this  fancy  is  over,  whether  I  take  one  for  somebody 
else  or  remain  without  a  lover?  You  have  many 
advantages  for  pleasing  women  ;  use  them  for  that 
purpose,  and  rest  assured  that  the  loss  of  one  can 
always  be  repaired  by  another,  —  that  is  the  way  to 
be  happy  and  amiable.”  1  Such  was  fashionable  mo¬ 
rality.  Chamfort  defined  love  as  “  the  exchange  of 
two  fantasies  and  the  contact  of  two  skins.”  People 
take  and  leave  each  other  in  precisely  the  same  way. 
As  Prince  de  Ligne  said,  one  was  happy  to  have ,  one 
was  enchanted  to  have  no  longer. 

Where  is  the  time  of  profound  passions,  trembling 
avowals,  of  sighs  and  tears  and  fond  despairs  ? 
Where  is  the  time  of  heroic  loves  with  their  chival¬ 
rous  respect,  their  long  waiting,  sublime  devotion, 
eternal  oaths,  their  tried  devotion  and  tender  grati¬ 
tude,  their  virtues  of  grandeur  and  generosity  ?  Look 


1  Memoirs  of  the  Duc  de  Lauzun. 


LOVE 


47 


at  the  Cupid  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  the  noisy, 
insolent,  victorious  Cupid,  who  scoffs  at  the  love  of 
former  times  as  a  malicious  and  ill-bred  child  mocks 
at  an  old  man.  Listen  to  him  saying  in  a  gibing 
tone:  “Your  lovers  were  mere  blockheads,  who  only 
knew  how  to  languish,  say  alas  !  and  tell  their  troubles 
to  the  surrounding  echoes.  For  my  part,  I  have  sup¬ 
pressed  the  echoes.  .  .  .  My  subjects  do  not  say  :  I 
am  dying  ;  nothing  is  half  so  much  alive  as  they  are. 
Languors,  timidity,  sweet  martyrdom,  are  out  of  the 
question  ;  all  that  is  tame,  a  platitude  of  other  days. 
.  .  .  I  don’t  put  my  subjects  to  sleep  ;  I  wake  them 
up  ;  they  are  so  keen  that  they  have  no  leisure  to  be 
tender  ;  their  glances  are  desires  ;  instead  of  sighing, 
they  attack  ;  they  do  not  say  :  Be  propitious  to  me  ; 
they  seize,  and  that  is  what  is  needed.”  1  Listen  to 
Madame  d’Epinay,  who  speaks  of  modesty  as  a  “  beau¬ 
tiful  virtue  which  one  fastens  on  with  pins.”  Listen 
to  the  century  which  boasts,  like  Crébillon  the 
younger,  of  “  having  arrived  at  the  truth  of  things,” 
of  having  suppressed  what  it  calls  “  exaggerations, 
affectations,  grimaces.”  Do  you  see,  in  the  picture 
of  La  Chemise  Enlevée ,  Fragonard’s  little  love  who 
smilingly  carries  off  the  decency  of  woman  ?  Do 
you  hear  Buffon  himself,  the  grave,  majestic  Buffon, 
employing  this  materialistic  language  ?  “  Why  does 

love  create  the  happy  estate  of  all  creatures  and  the 
misery  of  man  ?  It  is  because  only  the  physical  side 


1  Marivaux,  La  Reunion  des  Amours. 


48 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


of  this  passion  is  good;  because  the  moral  side  is 
good  for  nothing.”  1 

Hence  it  is  an  understood  thing,  proclaimed  by  the 
great  savants  of  the  century,  that  the  prime  essential 
is  to  suppress  the  moral  part  of  love.  Love  is  no 
longer  represented  except  under  the  image  of  a  pretty 
little  naked  god,  flying  about,  and  free.  The  enemies 
of  constraint  and  waiting  form  a  sect  called  the  anti- 
ceremonious.  Another  aphrodisiacal  corporation  en¬ 
titles  itself  the  Society  of  the  Moment.  To  choose  the 
moment  well  is  the  tactics,  the  supreme  art.  “  How 
many  liaisons  begin  briskly  by  insolence  in  a  carriage 
the  coachman  of  which  is  particular  about  taking  the 
longest  road,  to  play  deaf  and  to  make  the  horses  go 
slowly.  The  brutal  style  of  gallantry  ends  by  having 
principles,  a  sort  of  philosophy  and  means  of  excus¬ 
ing  itself.  ...  It  finds  wits  to  decide  that  a  tem¬ 
erarious  man  has  at  bottom  more  deference  for  the 
woman  than  a  timid  one  and  really  respects  her  more 
by  sparing  her  the  long  torment  of  successive  conces¬ 
sions.”  2  To  the  lover  who  remains  on  his  knees  too 
long,  the  eighteenth  century  cries  :  “  Get  up,  and  take 
your  mistress  in  your  arms.” 

It  is  very  perverted,  very  frivolous  and  guilty,  this 
society  of  the  time  of  Louis  XV.  They  are  very  im¬ 
moral,  these  gay  grand  ladies,  these  patriciennes  of 


1  Buffon,  Discours  sur  la  nature  des  animaux. 

2  Messrs,  de  Concourt,  L'Amour  au  XVIIIe  Siècle,  a  very  witty 
and  pleasant  volume.  Dentu. 


LOVE 


49 


libertinage,  who  love  scandal  for  scandal’s  sake,  and 
take  a  haughty  pleasure  in  the  loss  of  their  reputa¬ 
tion.  Nevertheless,  we  must  do  them  the  justice  of 
admitting  that  for  the  most  part  they  retain,  amid  all 
their  disorders,  a  quality  lacking  to  many  fashiona¬ 
ble  beauties  in  democratic  times,  —  disinterestedness. 
One  asks  of  the  grand  ladies  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
if  not  the  virtues  of  the  honest  woman,  at  least  her 
qualities.  In  the  high  society  of  these  times  love  is 
immoral,  indecent,  full  of  effrontery,  but  still  there 
is  love.  Doubtless  it  is  not  the  lofty,  magnanimous, 
inspired  love  of  the  heroines  of  the  great  Corneille 
or  the  tender  Racine.  It  is  not  the  ideal  passion, 
purified  by  the  spirit  of  sacrifice,  by  the  ardent 
flame  of  enthusiasm.  No,  it  is  no  longer  that  love. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  still  love,  or,  if  it  is  so  in  appear¬ 
ance  only,  at  least  it  is  not  a  vile  traffic. 

Let  us  add,  in  order  to  be  fair,  that  towards  the 
close  of  the  reign  the  level  of  sentiment  begins  to 
rise  a  little.  The  Nouvelle-Héloise  has  created  some¬ 
thing  new  in  the  erotic  manners  of  France  ;  and  if 
this  novelty  is  at  times  declamatory,  one  cannot 
avoid  recognizing  also  that  it  has  a  touch  of  spirit¬ 
uality. 

No  one  now  approves  this  remark  of  Buffon’s  :  “  Man 
in  desiring  to  base  himself  on  sentiment  simply 
abuses  his  being  and  hollows  out  in  his  heart  a  void 
which  nothing  is  able  to  replenish.”  The  fashion  has 
changed.  The  affectation  of  passion  has  been  substi¬ 
tuted  for  that  of  indifference.  The  man  of  sensibil- 


50 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ity,  tlie  lover  to  excess,  makes  his  appearance  in  the 
isle  of  Cythera.  Sensibility  is  the  watchword,  the 
word  which  expresses  everything.  In  a  gathering  at 
the  house  of  the  Duchess  de  Chartres,  the  Countess 
de  Blot  declares  “that  unless  of  superior  virtue,  a 
woman  really  sensitive  could  refuse  nothing  to  the 
passion  of  Rousseau.”  Irony,  scepticism,  were  once 
the  rule,  but  now  it  is  enthusiasm.  Declarations  of 
love  are  either  philosophic  theses  or  tragic  tirades. 
Every  lover  is  an  actor  who  declaims  his  part  with 
emphasis,  with  attitudes,  inflections  of  voices  and 
attitudes  studied  beforehand.  Henceforward  the 
salon  stage  is  monopolized  by  comic  lovers,  practised 
Don  Juans,  virtuosos  of  sentiment.  “Before  every¬ 
thing  else  they  seek  their  own  applause  and  are 
prouder  to  make  their  exit  content  with  themselves 
than  content  with  the  woman.  There  are  some  who 
falsify  their  whole  person,  who  paint  their  faces,  un¬ 
powder  their  hair,  who  deprive  themselves  of  wine  in 
order  to  grow  pale,  and  all  in  the  hope  of  moving  and 
affecting.  There  are  even  some  who  for  a  decisive 
rendezvous  put  on  despair  as  one  would  put  on 
rouge  ;  they  simulate  the  marks  of  half-dried  tears 
on  their  cheeks  with  diluted  gum  arabic.”  1  They 
boast  of  returning  to  nature,  of  admiring  the  country, 
of  being  compassionate  and  humane.  Formerly  it 
was  the  negation  of  love,  now  it  is  the  parody  of  it. 


1  Messrs,  de  Goncourt. 


IX 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


HE  principal  salons  of  Paris  are  celebrated 


_L  throughout  all  Europe.  They  lead  the  fashion. 
They  are  the  arbiters  of  style.  In  them  the  women 
are  sovereigns,  guiding  conversation  and  conse¬ 
quently  opinion.  The  old  style  becomes  the  elegant 
interpreter  of  new  ideas.  What  strikes  one  first  of 
all  in  fashionable  life  at  the  close  of  Louis  XV. ’s 
reign  is  the  increasing  intimacy  between  the  nobles 
and  the  men  of  letters.  “  The  haughty  Maréchale  de 
Luxembourg  always  chooses  La  Harpe  as  her  cava¬ 
lier;  he  gives  his  arm  so  well,  in  fact.  Not  only 
does  the  plebeian  enter  the  salon  if  he  has  good 
manners,  but  he  lords  it  there  if  he  has  talent.  The 
first  place  in  conversation  and  even  in  public  consid¬ 
eration  is  for  Voltaire,  the  son  of  a  notary;  for 
Rousseau,  the  son  of  a  clockmaker;  for  D’Alembert,  a 
foundling  picked  up  by  a  glazier.” 1  Walpole  consid¬ 
ers  that  literature  is  taking  up  too  much  space  in 
familiar  conversation.  “Literature  is  an  excellent 


1  M.  Taine,  Origines  de  la  France  contemporaine. 

51 


52 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


amusement,”  he  writes,  “when  one  has  nothing  bet¬ 
ter  to  do  ;  but  in  society  it  becomes  pedantry,  and  is 
tiresome  when  paraded  in  public.  The  authors  one 
meets  everywhere  are  worse  than  their  books,  which 
is  complimentary  to  neither.  Usually  the  tone  of 
conversation  is  solemn  and  pedantic,  and  people 
hardly  seem  to  be  amused  unless  they  are  disputing.  ” 
This  judgment  is  a  trifle  severe.  After  all,  from  the 
worldly  point  of  view,  it  is  still  Paris  which  holds 
the  sceptre,  and  foreign  princes  on  their  travels 
esteem  it  an  honor  to  enter  these  salons  whose 
prestige  and  brilliancy  are  universal. 

The  Maréchale  de  Luxembourg,  whose  first  hus¬ 
band  was  the  Duke  de  Boufflers,  the  heroine  of  the 
famous  chanson,  — 

“  Quand  Boufflers  parut  à  la  cour, 

On  crut  voir  la  mère  d’Amour  ; 

Chacun  s’empressait  à  lui  plaire, 

Et  chacun  l’avait  à  son  tour,” 1  — 

the  Maréchale  de  Luxembourg  settled  down  as  she 
advanced  in  years.  “Aided  by  a  great  name,  plenty 
of  audacity,  and  especially  by  a  fine  house,  she  has 
succeeded  in  making  people  forget  her  light  conduct 
and  has  established  herself  as  sovereign  arbiter  of 
decorum,  good  taste,  and  those  forms  which  make  up 


1  When  Boufflers  appeared  at  court, 

People  thought  they  saw  the  mother  of  Love; 
Every  one  was  eager  to  please  her, 

And  every  one  did  so  in  his  turn. 


THE  F  AMO  US  SALONS 


53 


politeness.  Her  empire  over  young  people  of  both 
sexes  is  absolute.  She  restrains  the  giddiness  of  the 
young  women,  forces  them  to  a  general  coquetry,  and 
obliges  the  young  men  to  be  prudent  and  respectful  ; 
in  fine,  she  maintains  the  sacred  fire  of  French 
urbanity;  at  her  house  the  tradition  of  noble  and 
easy  manners  which  all  Europe  comes  to  Paris  to 
admire  and  strives  in  vain  to  imitate,  is  strictly 
preserved.  Never  was  a  Roman  censor  more  useful 
to  the  morals  of  the  republic  than  the  Maréchale  de 
Luxembourg  has  been  to  the  charm  of  society.”1 
By  wit  and  authority,  by  making  herself  listened  to, 
and  especially  by  making  herself  feared,  the  Maré¬ 
chale  has  ended  by  inspiring  more  than  consideration  ; 
to  wit,  respect.  She  exerts  over  the  aristocratic,  and 
even  over  the  literary  world,  a  redoubtable  and 
despotic  domination.  A  presentation  at  court  no 
longer  suffices.  One  must  also  be  received  by  Ma¬ 
dame  the  Maréchale  de  Luxembourg.  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau  himself,  the  irascible,  morose  Jean  Jacques, 
is  fascinated,  as  it  were,  by  this  veritably  great  lady. 
“Hardly  had  I  seen  her,”  he  writes,  “when  I  was 
subjugated.  I  found  her  charming,  with  that  charm 
which  is  proof  against  time,  the  one  most  calculated 
to  act  upon  my  heart.  I  was  expecting  to  find  her 
conversation  caustic  and  full  of  epigrams.  It  is  not 
that,  but  something  much  better.  The  conversation 
of  Madame  de  Luxembourg  does  not  sparkle  with 


1  Duke  de  Levis,  Souvenirs  et  portraits. 


54 


LAST  TEAMS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


wit.  It  has  no  sallies,  and  strictly  speaking  no 
subtlety,  hut  it  has  an  exquisite  delicacy  which  never 
strikes  and  always  pleases.  Her  flatteries  are  all  the 
more  intoxicating  the  simpler  they  are.  One  would 
say  they  escape  her  unawares,  and  that  her  heart 
overflows  simply  because  it  is  over-full.” 

Another  superior  woman  whose  salon  is  an  aristo¬ 
cratic  and  intellectual  centre  of  the  first  order,  firstly 
at  Paris  and  Versailles  and  afterwards  at  Chanteloup, 
is  the  clever  and  virtuous  Duchess  de  Choiseul,  wife 
of  the  celebrated  minister.  “At  a  time  when  each 
coterie  has  its  philosopher,  who  is  as  it  were  its 
director,  Madame  de  Choiseul  thinks  for  herself. 
Neither  the  irony  of  Voltaire  nor  the  declamations  of 
Rousseau  disturb  her  sound  sense  and  correct  intel¬ 
ligence.  She  judges  men  and  things  sanely  without 
permitting  herself  to  be  carried  away  by  fashion  or 
prejudice.  One  always  finds  in  her  an  instructive 
taste  for  the  grand  and  the  beautiful.  Hers  is  a 
noble  nature,  lovable  at  first  sight,  and  in  which  one 
discovers  every  day  some  motive  for  loving  it  more.” 1 

The  Duchess  de  Choiseul  will  never  be  Rousseau’s 
dupe.  “He  preaches  a  good  morality,”  she  writes 
concerning  the  author'  of  the  Nouvelle-Iiéloise ,  “a 
morality  which  we  were  acquainted  with,  for  that 
matter,  because  there  is  but  one;  but  he  has  drawn 
suspicious  and  dangerous  conclusions  from  it,  or  has 


1  Prosper  Mérimée,  article  in  the  Moniteur  Universel  of  April 
29,  1867. 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


55 


put  us  in  a  position  to  do  so  by  the  way  in  which 
he  has  presented  them.  Always  suspect  metaphysics 
applied  to  simple  things  ;  happily  for  us,  nothing  is 
more  simple  than  morality,  and  what  is  truest  in 
this  matter  is  what  is  nearest  to  us.  Do  nothing  to 
another  that  you  would  not  have  him  do  to  you. 
Everybody  knows  that,  every  one  understands  that. 
.  .  .  There  is  no  need  of  fine  dissertations  on  moral 
good  and  evil,  the  origin  of  passions,  prejudices, 
manners,  etc.,  and  the  rest  of  that  fine  rigmarole 
with  which  these  gentlemen  fill  the  journals,  the 
shops,  and  our  libraries,  in  order  to  teach  us  what 
virtue  is.” 

The  Duchess  de  Choiseul  considers  Rousseau 
equally  dangerous  as  a  moralist  and  as  a  political 
publicist.  “I  admit,”  she  adds,  “that  errors  must 
necessarily  creep  into  prejudices,  as  abuses  do  into 
laws  ;  but  to  wish  to  destroy  everything  in  order  to 
correct  them  is  as  if  one  wanted  to  cut  off  a  man’s 
head  to  rid  him  of  a  few  white  hairs.  .  .  .  The 
employment  of  wit  at  the  expense  of  public  order 
is  one  of  the  greatest  villainies.  .  .  .  That  sort  of 
crime  is  a  seed,  it  is  positively  the  bad  grain  of  the 
Gospel.  A  true  citizen  would  serve  his  country  as 
best  he  could  by  his  wit  and  talents,  but  would  not 
go  to  writing  about  the  social  compact  so  as  to  make 
us  suspect  the  legitimacy  of  governments  and  over¬ 
whelm  us  with  the  weight  of  chains  which  we  had 
not  felt  as  yet.”  Madame  de  Choiseul  thus  con¬ 
cludes  this  fine  letter  of  July  17,  1766:  “I  have 


56 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


always  been  suspicious  of  this  Rousseau,  with  his 
singular  systems,  his  extraordinary  accoutrement, 
and  his  chair  of  eloquence  resting  on  the  roofs  of 
houses.  He  has  always  seemed  to  me  a  charlatan  of 
virtue.” 

The  Duchess  de  Choiseul  is  a  type  as  venerable  as 
sympathetic.  If  one  suffers  at  beholding  a  Madame 
de  Boufflers,  the  idol  of  the  Temple,  doing  the  honors 
of  Prince  de  Conti’s  house,  conjointly  with  Made¬ 
moiselle  Auguste,  the  danseuse  of  the  Opera,  or  a 
Maréchale  de  Mirepoix  sitting  on  the  front  seat  of 
Madame  de  Pompadour’s  carriage,  and  afterwards  on 
that  of  Madame  Du  Barry,  one  is  happy  at  meeting  a 
woman  worthy  of  her  rank  and  fortune,  a  woman 
who,  everywhere  and  always,  gives  the  example  of 
what  is  good,  beautiful,  and  true.  There  is  such 
purity  in  her  whole  existence,  such  virtuous  and 
simple  grace  in  her  pleasing  person,  such  a  great 
mind  in  her  little  body.1  “The  Duchess  of  Choiseul 
is  not  very  pretty,”  writes  Horace  Walpole,  “but  has 
fine  eyes,  and  is  a  little  model  in  waxwork,  which 
not  being  allowed  to  speak  for  some  time  as  incapa¬ 
ble,  has  a  hesitation  and  modesty,  the  latter  of  which 
the  Court  has  not  cured,  and  the  former  of  which  is 
atoned  for  by  the  most  interesting  sound  of  voice, 
and  forgotten  in  the  most  elegant  turn  and  propriety 
of  expression.  Oh!  it  is  the  gentlest,  amiable, 
civil  little  creature  that  ever  came  out  of  a  fairy 

egg-” 


1  See  M.  Grasset’s  fine  study,  Madame  de  Choiseul  et  son  temps. 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


57 


The  salons  of  the  Maréchale  de  Luxembourg  and 
the  Duchess  de  Choiseul  are  above  all  aristocratic 
circles.  From  the  literary  point  of  view,  the  three 
principal  salons  of  Paris  are  those  of  Madame  Geof- 
frin,  the  Marquise  Du  Deffand,  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse.  The  first  is  situated  in  the  rue  Saint- 
Honoré,  the  second  in  the  rue  Saint-Dominique,  in 
a  small  house  belonging  to  the  Convent  of  Saint 
Joseph,1  the  third  in  the  rue  de  Bellechasse. 

Madame  Geoffrin’s  power  is  a  sign  of  the  times. 
Does  this  very  influential  woman  belong  to  the 
nobility?  No.  She  is  of  very  obscure  birth.  What 
is  her  husband  ?  One  of  the  founders  of  the  manu¬ 
factory  of  glass,  a  very  rich  but  very  ugly  com¬ 
moner,  and  so  far  as  cleverness  goes,  a  nullity.  It 
is  pretended  that  one  of  the  lady’s  friends,  returning 
to  her  one  day  after  a  rather  long  absence,  said  to  her 
in  speaking  of  her  recollections  :  “  But  what  has 
become  of  that  old  gentleman  who  always  sat  at  the 
end  of  the  table  and  never  said  anything  to  any¬ 
body?  ” —  “Ah!”  responded  Madame  Geoffrin, 
“I  know  whom  you  mean.  .  .  .  He  is  dead.”  — 
“  Really  !  And  who  was  he,  then  ?  ” — “  My  husband.  ” 
Is  Madame  Geoffrin  literary  ?  Not  the  least  in  the 
world.  She  is  ignorance  itself.  She  does  not  even 
know  how  to  spell.  Apropos  of  instruction  she 
says:  “I  have  got  along  so  well  without  it  that  I 
have  never  felt  the  need  of  it.”  Very  well!  at  the 


1  Now  the  Ministry  of  War. 


58 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XY. 


close  of  Louis  XV.  ’s  reign  this  commoner,  without 
youth,1  beauty,  talent,  or  education,  this  old  woman 
who  would  have  passed  unnoticed  at  another  epoch, 
is  one  of  the  principal  authorities  of  France,  one  of 
the  sovereigns  of  opinion.  Her  salon,  celebrated 
throughout  Europe,  may  be  considered  one  of  the 
institutions  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  greatest 
nobles  pay  court  to  her.  Even  crowned  heads  render 
her  a  real  homage.  When,  in  June,  1766,  she  goes 
to  visit  her  friend,  I  might  almost  say  her  protégé, 
Stanislas  Poniatowski,  King  of  Poland,  her  visit  is 
considered  by  all  the  courts  as  a  political  event. 
The  King  receives  her  at  Warsaw  as  a  mother,  with 
all  imaginable  respect,  joy,  and  tenderness!  At 
Vienna  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa  overwhelms  her 
with  courteous  attentions.  A  princess  of  the  blood 
would  not  receive  a  more  flattering  welcome.  The 
Czarina  Catherine  II.  takes  pleasure  in  writing 
affectionate  letters  to  her,  and  values  this  correspon¬ 
dence  most  highly.  Why  was  this  prodigious  Suc¬ 
cess,  this  exceptional  importance,  accorded  by  France 
and  foreign  countries  to  a  woman  who  must  herself 
have  been  astonished  at  playing  such  a  part?  Why? 
Because  Madame  Geoffrin  has  had  the  talent  to 
create  by  herself  a  literary  salon,  because  artists  and 
authors  have  dined  and  supped  with  her,  because 
she  is  one  of  the  stockholders  of  the  Encyclopedia, 
because  she  has  probably  contributed  more  than  any 


1  She  was  born  in  1099. 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


59 


other  person  to  the  establishment  of  a  real  sympathy 
between  the  two  aristocracies  of  birth  and  talent. 
Such  a  vogue  as  hers  is  always  susceptible  of  some 
explanation.  Madame  Geoffrin  understands  better 
than  any  one  else  how  to  manage  the  difficult,  vain, 
irritable  race  of  artists  and  men  of  letters  ;  she  has, 
if  not  wit,  at  least  a  great  deal  of  tact,  finesse, 
cleverness,  blended  with  good-nature.1  “Madame 
Geoffrin’s  manners,”  says  Baron  de  Gleichen,  “may 
be  compared  to  La  Fontaine’s  style.  There  is  a  good 
deal  of  art  in  them,  but  this  art  is  not  apparent. 
Everything  in  her  seems  very  ordinary,  and  yet  no 
one  could  equal  her  by  trying  to  imitate  her.  Every¬ 
thing  in  her  house  is  well  arranged,  easy,  commo¬ 
dious,  useful,  and  simple.  Her  bourgeois  tone  and 
common  language  impart  a  certain  piquancy  to  a 
discourse  full  of  wisdom  and  good  sense.”  Horace 
Walpole  is  also  an  admirer  of  this  woman  who  excels 
in  the  art  of  holding  a  salon.  He  writes  to  Lady 
Hervey,  October  13,  1765:  “Madame  Geoffrin  is  a 
marvel  of  good  sense,  good  information,  good  advice, 
and  timeliness.  She  has  a  way  of  finding  fault  with 
you  which  charms  me.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  seen 
a  person  who  can  so  quickly  seize  the  defects,  vani¬ 
ties,  and  deceits  of  any  one,  who  explains  them  to 
one  with  such  precision,  nor  who  had  the  art  of  con¬ 
vincing  one  so  easily.  I  have  never  liked  being 

1  See  tlie  excellent  introduction  by  M.  Charles  de  Morey  prefaced 
to  the  Correspondance  du  roi  Stanislas,  Auguste  Poniatowski  et  de 
Madame  Geoffrin,  a  very  interesting  volume,  published  by  Plon. 


60 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


corrected  to  my  face.  Well!  you  cannot  imagine 
what  pleasure  I  find  in  it  with  her  ;  I  take  her  both 
as  confessor  and  director,  and  begin  to  believe  that 
in  the  end  I  shall  become  a  reasonable  creature, 
which  I  have  never  had  any  pretension  of  being. 
The  next  time  I  see  her  I  think  I  shall  say:  O  com¬ 
mon  sense,  seat  yourself  there!  ...  If  she  could 
give  herself  the  trouble,  I  assure  you,  Madame,  she 
would  govern  me  like  a  child.” 

The  rival  salon  to  that  of  Madame  Geoffrin  is  that 
of  the  Marquise  Du  Deffand.  Madame  Du  Deffand 
is  as  much  a  great  lady  as  Madame  Geoffrin  is  a 
commoner.  Madame  Du  Deffand  is  as  learned  as 
Madame  Geoffrin  is  ignorant.  While  one  does  not 
know  how  to  spell,  the  other  writes  as  well  as  the 
most  illustrious  authors.  Both  are  old  at  the  time 
when  their  salons  exercise  a  preponderating  influence 
at  Paris.  They  are  of  nearly  the  same  age.  Madame 
Geoffrin  was  born  in  1699,  Madame  Du  Deffand  in 
1697,  a  year  later  than  Madame  de  Sévigné,  whose 
tradition  she  was  to  continue  and  to  repeat  her 
glory.  The  Marquise  Du  Deffand  is  not  merely  old; 
she  is  blind.  Her  eyes,  once  so  beautiful,  which  had 
made,  people  say,  so  many  ravages,  are  extinct. 
But,  lacking  the  eyes  of  the  body,  she  has  those  of 
the  spirit,  and  with  those  she  sees  everything.  Sit¬ 
ting,  day  and  night,  in  that  famous  armchair  which 
she  calls  her  tub,  the  witty  blind  woman  is  a  power 
which  must  be  reckoned  with.  Her  salon  is  an 
areopagus  whose  decrees  are  to  be  dreaded.  To  be 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


61 


admitted  there  is  a  great  distinction,  a  high  favor. 
To  cross  its  threshold  one  must  be  a  somebody, 
either  in  the  book  of  heraldry  or  the  golden  book  of 
literature.1  A  procession  of  influential  people,  cele¬ 
brated  persons,  well-informed  newsmongers,  defiles 
there  at  all  hours.  It  is  a  centre  of  information 
which  has  the  word  of  every  enigma,  the  clue  to 
every  intrigue,  the  earliest  hint  of  all  ideas.  It  is  a 
salon  at  once  diplomatic  and  literary,  political  and 
diplomatic;  it  is  the  almost  official  rendezvous  of 
foreign  diplomatists,  who  come  hither  to  find  the 
daily  materials  for  their  correspondence  with  their 
governments.  It  is  there  that  all  pressing  questions 
in  France  and  elsewhere  in  Europe  are  treated  in  a 
remarkable  manner  by  well-bred  men  who  chat,  who 
do  not  argue,  and  who,  seeking  above  all  things  to 
be  agreeable,  know  how,  according  to  Boileau’s 
precept, — 

“To  pass  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe.” 

The  sarcastic  dowager  presides  at  all  their  interviews 
with  a  sort  of  magistery.  The  prestige  of  her  repu¬ 
tation,  the  verve  and  eloquence  of  her  speech,  the 
superiority  of  her  style  and  language,  her  rank,  her 
relations,  her  marvellous  wit,  so  keen,  so  subtle, 
so  piercing,  make  her  a  woman  whose  domination  is 
felt  by  the  most  recalcitrant.  She  has  the  talent  of 


1  See  the  remarkable  study  by  M.  Lescure  prefaced  to  the  Cor¬ 
respondance  de  la  Marquise  Du  Deffand.  2  vol.  Plon. 


62 


LAST  TEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


making  herself  feared.  Woe  to  him  whose  whims 
she  takes  it  into  her  head  to  ridicule.  She  is,  as 
she  has  been  called,  the  female  Voltaire,  the  high- 
priestess  of  irony.  In  her  slim  and  nervous  little 
hands  the  sceptre  of  wit  is  like  a  ferule.  She  is 
often  amiable,  but  a  trifle  is  enough  to  irritate,  to 
embitter  her,  and  then  her  redoubtable  armchair  is 
like  a  tribune  whence  she  launches  invectives, 
whence  she  discharges  all  the  shafts  of  satire.  Hers 
is  the  chief  salon  of  Paris.  Her  letters  are  models 
of  style,  marvels  of  precision,  lucidity,  subtlety. 
No  classic  writer  has  a  more  irreproachable  form. 
Madame  de  Sévigné  has  personified  the  seventeenth 
century.  Madame  Du  Deffand  is  like  the  incarna¬ 
tion  of  the  eighteenth.  Voltaire  himself,  Voltaire, 
who  considers  her  as  the  arbiter  of  renown,  is  so 
afraid  of  her  that,  in  order  to  pay  court  to  her,  he 
tries  to  persuade  her  that  he  is  blind  like  herself. 
There  is  one  man,  however,  who  dares  to  brave  the 
vengeful  thunderbolts  of  the  Marquise  Du  Deffand, 
and  who  must  have  many  reasons  to  fear  her,  for  he 
is  a  savant,  an  academician,  a  man  of  the  world,  and 
a  philosopher:  D’Alembert.  But  that  can  be  ex¬ 
plained:  D’Alembert  is  in  love  with  the  enemy  of 
the  Marquise,  —  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse. 

The  two  rivals  had  begun  by  being  friends.  They 
lived  under  the  same  roof  for  ten  years,  from  1754 
to  1764.  The  illegitimate  child  of  the  Countess 
d’Albon,  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  born  in  1732, 
had  many  trials  to  undergo.  Poor,  without  any 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


63 


support,  she  had  at  first  been  happy  to  accept 
a  shelter  with  Madame  Du  Deffand.  Pleasing, 
though  not  pretty,  intelligent,  instructed,  talking 
and  writing  well,  concealing  a  restless  mind  and 
an  ardent  imagination  under  an  apparent  calmness 
and  reserve,  her  inferior  position,  her  species  of 
social  and  literary  servitude,  caused  her  at  last  keen 
suffering.  The  companion  made  her  coup  d'Etat. 
She  slyly  installed  in  her  little  room  a  sort  of 
intimate  circle  reserved  to  certain  initiates  coming 
to  spend  a  few  moments  there  in  secret  before  the 
hour  when  the  salon  of  the  Marquise  opened.  But 
some  backbiter  betrayed  the  secret.  The  blind  old 
woman  learned  of  the  conspiracy.  Exasperated 
by  such  an  act  of  rebellion,  she  pitilessly  banished 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  The  quarrel  between 
these  two  women  has  divided  Parisian  society  into 
two  camps,  one  defending  the  Marquise,  the  other 
pitying  her  companion.  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
has  not  remained  without  resources.  Her  faithful 
adherents  —  D’Alembert,  Turgot,  the  Chevalier  de 
Chastellux,  the  Abbé  de  Boismont,  the  Archbishop 
of  Aix  —  have  clubbed  together  to  assure  her  a 
modest  but  independent  position,  and  have  hired 
an  apartment  for  her  in  the  rue  de  Bellechasse.  Her 
salon  is  not  large,  but  it  is  animated  by  a  flame 
of  intelligence,  sympathy,  and  passion.  The  re¬ 
stricted  and  chosen  circle  which  frequent  it  find 
more  charm  there  than  in  the  great  intellectual 
gatherings  of  a  Marquise  Du  Deffand  or  a  Madame 
Geoffrin. 


64 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


These  celebrated  salons  which  are  the  admiration 
of  all  Europe  are  very  attractive,  very  agreeable  on 
the  surface.  But  what  contradictions,  what  petti¬ 
nesses,  there  are  in  this  society  of  those  privileged 
by  birth,  wit,  or  fortune  !  What  hours  of  discourage¬ 
ment,  ennui,  and  chagrin  are  the  lot  of  all  these 
people  who  are  amusing  themselves,  or,  better, 
who  have  the  hope,  the  pretension,  of  doing  so  ! 
Madame  Geoffrin  herself,  in  spite  of  her  good  health, 
her  good  sense,  and  good  humor,  contemplates 
at  times  with  inquietude,  with  alarm,  the  work 
of  these  Encyclopedists  to  whom  she  renders  con¬ 
tinual  services.  She  receives  and  protects  them, 
she  gives  large  sums  to  these  artisans  of  disorder, 
these  demolishers  of  the  throne  and  the  altar,  and 
yet,  by  one  of  those  inconsistencies  so  frequent 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  she  is  at  bottom  a  roy¬ 
alist  and  a  devotee.  The  friend,  confidant,  and 
counsellor  of  the  most  incredulous  philosophers, 
the  most  dangerous  materialists,  the  woman  whose 
largesses  contribute  greatly  to  the  publication  of 
the  Encyclopedia,  goes  to  confession  to  a  Capuchin, 
is  assiduous  at  Mass  and  Vespers,  always  in  her  seat 
at  the  church  of  Saint  Roch,  and  careful  to  have 
a  priest  brought  to  the  death-beds  of  her  friends. 
At  times  a  secret  instinct  warns  this  aged  woman, 
who  likes  repose  and  discriminating  conservations, 
that  her  house,  apparently  so  reserved  and  tranquil, 
is  the  accursed  laboratory  where  the  poisons  which 
will  inflict  death  on  individuals  and  society  are 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


65 


being  silently  prepared  under  the  light  of  a  salon 
lamp,  by  a  restricted  and  chosen  circle. 

Madame  Du  Deffand  herself  has  at  times  ephemeral 
inclinations  toward  religion  and  piety.  It  happens  to 
her  at  certain  hours  to  aspire  vaguely  to  the  devout 
estate,  “  the  state,”  she  says,  “  which  seems  to  her 
the  happiest  in  life.”  She  bitterly^  regrets  that  peace 
of  heart  given  by  the  faith,  and  which  is  such  a  force, 
such  a  consolation,  in  our  valley  of  tears.  In  spite  of 
all  her  wit,  she  succumbs  under  the  burden  of  an 
incurable  ennui,  and  her  letters  breathe  sometimes 
the  accents  of  despair.  In  this  worldly  society,  the 
sublimity  of  frivolity,  she  expresses  here  and  there, 
with  sinister  eloquence,  thoughts  which  make  one 
shudder.  Then  her  reflections,  profound  and  full  of 
anguish,  are  as  striking  as  the  soliloquy  of  Hamlet. 
Her  armchair,  which  she  calls  her  tub,  she  might 
also  call  her  tomb.  In  it  she  is  like  a  dead  woman  who 
might  have  the  sentiment  of  life.  To  the  man  who 
said  :  “  Go  lightly,  mortals,  don’t  bear  on  too  hard,” 
to  the  superficial  Voltaire,  this  poor  old  woman,  blind 
both  morally  and  physically,  addresses  with  doleful 
anxiety  questions  concerning  the  terrible  problems  of 
human  destiny.  She  writes  to  him,  April  1,  1769: 
“  Tell  me  why,  detesting  life,  I  dread  death.  Noth¬ 
ing  indicates  to  me  that  all  will  not  be  at  an  end  with 
me  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  perceive  the  dilapidation  of  my 
mind  as  well  as  that  of  my  body.  All  that  is  said  for 
or  against  makes  no  impression  on  me.  I  listen  only 
to  myself,  and  I  find  nothing  but  doubt  and  obscurity. 


66 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Believe  ;  says  one,  it  is  the  safest.  But  how  can  one 
believe  what  one  does  not  comprehend?  What  one 
does  not  comprehend  may  doubtless  exist  ;  therefore 
I  do  not  deny  it  ;  I  am  like  one  born  deaf  and  blind. 
He  admits  that  there  are  sounds  and  colors  ;  but  does 
he  know  what  he  is  admitting?  If  it  were  enough 
not  to  deny,  it  would  be  all  very  well  ;  but  that  is 
not  enough.  How  can  one  decide  between  a  begin¬ 
ning  and  an  eternity,  between  the  full  and  the 
empty?  Not  one  of  my  senses  can  teach  me;  what 
can  one  learn  without  them  ?  Meanwhile,  if  I  do 
not  believe  what  ought  to  be  believed,  I  am  threat¬ 
ened  with  being  a  thousand  times  more  unhappy 
after  my  death  than  I  am  during  my  life.  On  what 
shall  one  decide,  and  is  it  possible  to  decide  ?  I  ask 
you,  who  have  a  character  so  true,  that  you  ought, 
by  sympathy,  to  discover  the  truth,  if  it  be  discover¬ 
able.  I  must  have  tidings  of  the  other  world  and 
be  told  whether  we  are  destined  to  play  a  part 
there.” 

To  crown  her  misfortunes,  Madame  Du  Deffand  is 
at  the  same  time  a  victim  to  the  tortures  of  both  mind 
and  heart.  She  who  had  never  known  real  love,  falls 
into  a  sort  of  ecstatic  passion  when  she  is  nearly  sev¬ 
enty.  She  conceives  for  a  man  twenty  years  younger 
than  herself,  and  who  fears  ridicule  above  all  things, 
the  caustic  and  witty  Englishman,  Horace  Walpole, 
a  strange,  vague,  yet  violent  and  exclusive  affection 
which  is  not  friendship,  which  cannot  be  love.  As 
if  by  the  irony  of  fate,  she  loves  for  the  first  time  at 


THE  FAMOUS  SALONS 


67 


an  age  when  it  is  no  longer  permissible  to  love  for  the 
last  one. 

Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  is  possibly  still  more 
unhappy  than  Madame  Du  Deffand.  This  demoi¬ 
selle,  apparently  frivolous,  loves  like  Sappho,  like 
the  Portuguese  nun,  like  the  new  Heloise.  She  is 
a  type  of  hobheaded,  feverish,  frenetic  love.  She 
loves  to  madness,  to  frenzy,  a  brilliant  officer  who 
cares  nothing  for  her,  —  M.  de  Guibert.  She  lives  by 
this  love  and  she  dies  of  it.  Her  poor  body  and  her 
poor  soul  are  as  if  enveloped  in  a  shirt  of  Nessus. 
One  might  call  her  a  victim  of  the  ancient  fatality. 
In  her  despair,  in  her  agony,  she  writes  to  her  insen¬ 
sible  lover  :  “  Ah  !  how  cruel  men  are  !  Tigers  are 
kind  in  comparison  to  them.  I  ought  naturally  to 
have  devoted  myself  to  hating  ;  I  have  fulfilled  my 
destiny  badly.  I  have  loved  much  and  hated  little. 
...  I  have  no  longer  the  strength  to  love  ;  my  soul 
fatigues,  torments  me  ;  I  am  no  longer  constant  to 
anything.  ...  I  have  a  fever  every  day,  and  my 
doctor,  who  is  not  the  most  skilful  of  men,  tells  me 
constantly  that  I  am  consumed  with  chagrin,  that  my 
pulse  and  my  respiration  announce  an  active  suffer¬ 
ing,  and  he  always  goes  away  saying,  ‘We  have  no 
remedy  for  the  soul.’  ”  And  you,  O  philosophers,  do 
you  think  you  have  any  ?  Men  of  the  Encyclopedia, 
habitués  of  the  celebrated  salons,  if  you  want  to 
know  what  philosophy  is,  and  what  religion,  com¬ 
pare  the  death  of  one  of  your  adepts  with  the  death 
of  a  Christian  woman  ! 


X 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS 


HERE  is  the  time  when  La  Bruyère  wrote  : 


Y  V  “A  man  born  Christian  and  French  finds  him¬ 
self  constrained  in  satire.  The  great  subjects  are 
forbidden  him.”  Where  is  the  time  when  the  advo¬ 
cate  Barbier  put  this  sentence  in  his  journal:  “I 
think  one  ought  to  employ  himself  honorably,  with¬ 
out  meddling  in  State  affairs  over  which  he  has 
neither  power  nor  authority.”  Prudence,  reserve, 
respect  for  authority,  fear  of  weakening  the  founda¬ 
tions  of  the  social  edifice,  —  the  philosophers  have 
changed  all  that.  The  salons  have  become  acade¬ 
mies  in  which  people  incessantly  talk  of  religion  and 
politics,  for  the  sake  of  attacking  the  Church  and 
even  royalty.  In  1762  Bachaumont  calls  attention 
to  a  deluge  of  pamphlets,  brochures,  and  political 
dissertations,  “  a  rage  to  argue  on  matters  of  finance 
and  government.”  Horace  Walpole  affirms  in  1765, 
that  “  the  atheists  who  engross  conversation  inveigh 
as  loudly  against  kings  as  against  priests.  .  .  .  They 
do  nothing  but  preach,  and  their  avowed  doctrine  is 
atheism.  .  .  .  Even  Voltaire  does  not  satisfy  them. 


68 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS 


69 


One  of  their  devotees  said  of  him  :  ‘  He  is  bigoted, 
he  is  a  deist.’  ” 

The  philosophers  are  the  heroes  of  the  day.  Their 
doctrines  have  not  as  yet  penetrated  the  masses  of 
the  people.  But  in  the  aristocracy,  the  wealthy 
commoners,  the  world  of  letters,  the  superior  mag¬ 
istracy,  the  world  of  finance,  they  take  the  arrogant 
tone  of  masters.  One  meets  them  in  all  the  academies, 
the  houses  of  all  the  great  nobles,  at  every  fête, 
every  elegant  supper.  Certain  prelates  of  the  upper 
clergy  even  are  accused  of  fraternizing  with  them. 
Now  that  the  fops  are  out  of  fashion,  the  men  in 
vogue  are  the  philosophers.  A  philosopher  with  all 
his  subversive  ideas  'appears  as  indispensable  to  a 
well-kept  salon  as  a  chandelier  with  all  its  candles. 
Philosophy,  before  becoming  the  supreme  danger,  is 
a  pastime,  a  diversion,  an  elegancy.  The  fire  which 
is  to  burn  the  edifice  shows  itself  at  first  under  the 
aspect  of  an  evening  illumination,  an  amusing  Bengal 
light.  The  great  nobles  play  with  loaded  guns  with¬ 
out  suspecting  that  they  are  about  to  go  off.  They 
are  like  workmen  who,  undertaking  works  of  demoli¬ 
tion,  should  delude  themselves  and  naïvely  imagine 
that  they  are  building.  Strange  types,  these  revolu¬ 
tionists  in  lace  jabots,  with  their  fashionable  blas¬ 
phemies,  their  cups  of  gold  or  crystal  full  of  an 
intoxicating  but  poisonous  beverage,  these  effeminate 
philosophers  who,  with  such  a  charming  smile  and  eyes 
so  soft,  utter  in  refined  and  pleasing  tones  the  most  im¬ 
pious  remarks  in  the  very  manner  in  which  one  would 


70 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


recite  an  idyl  or  a  madrigal  !  Curious  repasts,  these 
suppers,  where  “one  is  at  table  amidst  a  delicate 
luxury,  among  smiling  and  well-dressed  women,  with 
learned  and  agreeable  men,  in  a  society  where  in¬ 
telligence  is  prompt  and  intercourse  safe.  After 
the  second  course  there  is  an  explosion  of  anima¬ 
tion,  sallies  flash  out,  wits  flame  or  sparkle.  At 
dessert  could  one  avoid  making  witticisms  on  the 
gravest  subjects?  With  coffee  arises  the  question 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  the  existence  of 
God.”  1  Scepticism  is  regarded  as  a  thing  pertain¬ 
ing  to  good  society.  People  make  a  pleasure,  a 
glory  of  it.  The  old-time  aristocratic  stiffness 
changes  into  persiflage  or  irony  concerning  sacred 
things.  The  revolution  still  wears  ruffles.  Before 
putting  on  the  carmagnole  it  drapes  itself  in  silk 
and  velvet.  It  will  end  with  red  caps  ;  it  begins 
with  red-heeled  slippers. 

In  all  this  there  are  many  oddities,  many  incon¬ 
sistencies.  Let  Walpole  describe  it  for  us.  “By 
what  I  said  of  their  religious  or  rather  irreligious 
opinions,  you  must  not  conclude  their  people  of 
quality  atheists,  —  at  least,  not  the  men.  Happily 
for  them,  poor  souls  !  they  are  not  capable  of  going 
so  far  into  thinking.  They  assent  to  a  great  deal, 
because  it  is  the  fashion,  and  because  they  don’t 
know  how  to  contradict.  They  are  ashamed  to 
defend  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  because  it  is 


1 M.  Taine,  Origines  de  la  France  contemporaine. 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS 


71 


quite  exploded;  but  I  am  convinced  they  believe 
it  in  their  hearts.”  1 

The  philosophers  themselves  recoil  before  the  con¬ 
sequences  and  the  application  of  their  doctrines. 
Diderot,  in  his  Projet  d'  instruction  publique  pour  la 
Russie,  recognizes  that  “  atheism,  adapted  to  a  small 
number  of  thinkers,  cannot  be  suitable  for  a  society.” 
He,  the  pretended  destroyer  of  religions  and  tyran¬ 
nies,  he  who,  in  an  access  of  savage  fury,  wrote  this 
outrageous  distich,  — 

“  Et  ma  main  ourdirait  les  entrailles  du  ■prêtre, 

A  défaut  de  cordon  pour  étrangler  les  rois,” —  2 

he  professes  a  naïve  adoration  for  the  Empress  Cath¬ 
erine  IL,  goes  to  Russia  to  pay  her  homage,  and 
receives  from  her  northern  majesty  a  heap  of  compli¬ 
ments  and  presents.  Voltaire  exclaims  in  a  candid 
moment:  “The  wretch,” — it  is  the  patriarch  of 
Ferney’s  appellation  for  the  Catholic  religion,  —  “  the 
wretch  is  good  for  the  rabble  great  and  small.” 

I  read  in  Bachaumont,  under  date  of  April  23, 
1769:  “It  is  known  from  various  letters  which 
M.  Voltaire  has  written  in  this  region,  that  this 
great  poet  has  renewed  this  year  the  edifying  spec¬ 
tacle  of  the  last  one,  and  has  again  received  his 
Easter  Communion  with  much  devotion,  but  in  a 
less  public  manner;  he  has  alleged  certain  incon- 


1  January  25,  1766. 

2  And  my  hand  would  twist  the  entrails  of  the  priest, 
Lacking  another  cord  to  strangle  kings. 


72 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


veniences  which  oblige  him  to  keep  his  bed,  and 
receive  Communion  in  his  own  house. 

“It  is  claimed  that  M.  Voltaire,  piqued  by  the 
complaints  of  the  Bishop  of  Belley,  lamenting  over 
his  incredulity  and  his  continued  obstinacy  in 
spreading  libels  against  religion,  determined  to 
verify  this  Catholic  action,  and  that  he  had  recourse 
to  notaries  to  receive  at  this  moment  his  profession 
of  faith,  which  he  has  sent  to  Monseigneur.  How¬ 
ever  it  may  be  with  regard  to  this  circumstance, 
about  which  people  differ,  it  is  evident  in  several 
letters  to  his  friends  how  much  he  is  attached  to 
religion,  what  respect  he  has  for  it,  and  with  what 
humility  he  has  hastened  to  satisfy  the  obligations 
of  Catholicity.” 

Is  Bachaumont  altogether  serious  when  he  thus 
expresses  himself?  I  could  not  answer  for  it.  It 
is  certain,  at  all  events,  that  Voltaire  built  a  Catho¬ 
lic  church  at  his  own  expense,  close  beside  his 
chateau,  and  that  on  the  portal  of  it  he  had  sculpt¬ 
ured  this  inscription,  more  haughty  than  evangelic: 
Deo  erexit  Voltaire. 

Such  contradictions  exasperate  Horace  Walpole’s 
common  sense.  “Atheism,”  he  writes,  “is  a  piti¬ 
able  mess,  although  all  the  cooks  of  France  exert 
themselves  to  invent  new  sauces  for  it.  As  to  the 
soul,  perhaps  they  have  none  on  the  continent,  but 
I  think  we  have  such  things  in  England.  I  think 
that  Shakespeare,  for  example,  had  several  for  his 
part.  As  to  what  concerns  the  Jews,  although  they 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS 


73 


don’t  eat  pork,  I  like  them,  because  they  are  better 
Christians  than  Voltaire.”  1  Walpole,  the  phlegmatic 
Englishman,  so  moderate,  courteous,  liberal,  so 
accustomed  to  the  civil  manners  of  his  country,  Wal¬ 
pole,  the  friend  of  the  Marquise  Du  Deffand,  the 
wit,  the  man  of  fashion,  the  frequenter  of  salons, 
could  not  accustom  himself  to  the  philosophers  of 
France.  He  found  them  ill-bred,  pretentious,  tire¬ 
some.  He  accuses  them  of  “having  taken  up 
gravity,  thinking  it  was  philosophy  and  English, 
and  so  have  acquired  nothing  in  the  room  of  their 
natural  levity  and  cheerfulness.  .  .  .  They  are  con¬ 
temptuous  and  reserved,  instead  of  being  ridicu¬ 
lously,  consequently  pardonably,  impertinent.” 2 
What  has  become  of  the  old  French  gaiety?  For 
the  nation  it  is  no  longer  anything  but  a  souvenir 
of  its  youth.  “Laughing  is  as  much  out  of  fash¬ 
ion  as  pantins  or  bilboquets.  Good  folks,  they 
have  no  time  to  laugh.  There  is  God  and  the 
King  to  be  pulled  down  first  ;  and  men  and  women, 
one  and  all,  are  devoutly  employed  in  the  demoli¬ 
tion.  They  think  me  profane  for  having  any  belief 
left.  But  this  is  not  my  only  crime  :  I  have  told 
them,  and  am  undone  by  it,  that  they  have  taken 
from  us  to  admire  the  two  dullest  things  we  had, 
Whist  and  Richardson.3  .  .  .  There  was  no  soul 
in  Paris  but  philosophers,  whom  I  wished  in 


1  Letter  of  March  17,  1771.  2  Letter  of  January  25,  1766. 

3  Letter  of  October  19,  1765. 


74 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


heaven,  though  they  do  not  wish  themselves  so. 
They  are  so  overbearing  and  underbred.  ...  I 
sometimes  go  to  Baron  d’Olbach’s;  but  I  have 
left  off  his  dinners,  as  there  was  no  bearing  the 
authors,  and  philosophers,  and  savants,  of  which 
he  has  a  pigeon-house  full.  They  soon  turned  my 
head  with  a  new  system  of  antediluvian  deluges, 
which  they  have  invented  to  prove  the  eternity  of 
matter.”  1 

All  this  philosophic  and  scientific  flurry  bewil- 
dered  and  bored  the  witty  Englishman.  These  end¬ 
less  blasphemies  made  him  love  religion.  “  Don’t  be 
astonished,”  he  writes,  “if  I  become  a  thorough 
Jesuit.”  These  gilded  salons  resplendent  with 
lights,  these  perfumed  boudoirs  filled  with  flowers, 
where  marchionesses  and  duchesses,  powdered,  glit¬ 
tering,  covered  with  precious  stones,  and  great  nobles 
in  velvet  coats  with  iridescent  reflections,  give  them¬ 
selves  up  to  senseless  invectives  against  the  Christ, 
make  him  wish  to  turn  his  back  upon  them  all  and 
betake  himself  to  tranquil  meditation  in  the  depths 
of  some  cloister,  far  from  the  philosophers.  “When 
I  get  too  tired  of  their  madness,”  he  says  again, 
“I  retire  to  the  Chartreuse,2  where  I  am  tempted  to 
prefer  Lesueur  to  all  the  painters  I  know.”  This 
Carthusian  convent  he  always  revisited  with  emotion 
on  each  of  his  journeys.  In  1739  he  had  said  :  “  One 

1  Letter  of  December  5,  1765. 

2  The  Carthusian  convent  at  Paris,  rue  d’Enfer.  At  that  time 
Lesueur’s  Saint  Bruno,  now  in  the  Louvre,  might  be  seen  there. 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS 


76 


finds  there  every  convenience  which  melancholy, 
meditation,  or  despair  could  desire.  And  yet,  one 
is  pleased  there.”  But  in  1771  the  impression  is  not 
so  vivid.  He  writes,  July  9:  “I  have  not  half  the 
pleasure  in  visiting  the  churches  and  convents  that  I 
formerly  felt.  The  consciousness  that  the  vision  is 
dispelled,  the  lack  of  the  fervor  so  necessary  in  all 
that  is  religious,  gives  these  places  the  aspect  of 
theatres  doomed  to  destruction.  The  monks  trot 
from  one  side  to  the  other  as  if  they  had  not  much 
longer  to  stay  there,  and  what  once  appeared  to  me 
a  sacred  twilight  is  now  only  dirt  and  shadows.” 

Who  knows  whether  impious  doctrines  have  not 
already  crossed  the  thresholds  of  these  pious  asylums 
where  souls  once  found  emotions  so  pure  and  such 
sweet  consolations?  The  stone  saints  of  Gothic 
architecture  no  longer  seem  so  venerable.  The 
changing  lights  of  stained  windows  have  no  more 
the  same  mysterious  clearness.  The  sound  of  the 
organ  is  less  grandiose,  less  touching.  Walpole  is 
afflicted  by  that  spirit  of  the  times,  that  accursed 
breath  which  corrupts  and  withers  human  souls. 
The  same  sentiment  of  vague  disquiet,  of  melan¬ 
choly  discouragement,  is  found  in  many  minds  ; 
above  all,  in  many  hearts.  In  the  midst  of  this 
society,  ailing  in  spite  of  its  brilliancy,  in  spite 
of  the  paint  and  patches  which  cover  the  cheeks 
of  its  fashionable  beauties,  how  many  strive  to 
stupefy  themselves,  like  those  timid  people  who 
sing  when  they  are  afraid!  What  do  these  success- 


76 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ful  personages,  men  or  women,  say  to  themselves 
when,  wrested  from  the  worldly  tumult,  they  enter 
into  themselves  a  moment?  What  do  they  think 
at  the  hour  when  the  festal  lamps  are  extinct,  the 
flowers  faded,  and  when,  after  a  night  noisy  with 
impieties  and  so-called  pleasures,  the  clarity  of  dawn 
appears  ? 


SECOND  PART 

THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES  AT  THE  END 
OF  THE  REIGN  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


[1708-1774] 


I 


LOUIS  XV.  IN  1768 


ARTE  LECZINSKA  was  just  dead,  and  sad- 


_LV_L  dened  Versailles  presented  a  funeral  aspect. 
Mademoiselle  Genet,  the  future  Madame  Campan, 
who  had  recently  become  reader  to  Mesdames  de 
France,  was  profoundly  struck  by  the  doleful  specta¬ 
cle  offered  by  the  château.  “Those  grand  apart¬ 
ments  hung  with  black,”  she  wrote,  “those  State 
armchairs  raised  upon  several  steps  and  overhung  by 
a  canopy  adorned  with  plumes,  those  caparisoned 
horses,  that  immense  procession  in  deep  mourning, 
those  enormous  shoulder-knots  embroidered  with 
gold  and  silver  spangles  which  decorated  the  habits 
of  the  pages  and  even  those  of  the  footmen,  all  that 
pageantry,  in  fine,  produced  such  an  effect  on  my 
senses  that  I  could  hardly  hold  myself  up  straight 
when  I  was  brought  into  the  apartment  of  the  Prin¬ 
cesses.  The  first  day  on  which  I  read  in  Madame 
Victoire ’s  private  room,  it  was  impossible  for  me 
to  pronounce  more  than  two  sentences  ;  my  heart 
palpitated,  my  voice  trembled,  my  sight  was  dim.” 

Within  two  years  and  a  half,  Louis  XV.  had  lost 


79 


80 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


his  son,  his  daughter-in-law,  and  his  wife.  These 
three  saintly  and  affecting  deaths  were  for  a  moment 
to  reawaken  sentiments  of  religion  and  repentance 
in  his  heart.  During  the  long  sufferings  of  Marie 
Leczinska  he  had  surrounded  her  with  such  assidu¬ 
ous  attentions  that  the  poor  Queen,  little  accustomed 
to  such  solicitude,  knew  not  how  to  show  him  her 
gratitude.  After  she  had  breathed  her  last,  it  was 
with  sincere  emotion  and  respectful  tenderness  that 
her  husband  imprinted  a  last  kiss  on  her  icy  fore¬ 
head.  People  fancied  that  so  many  warnings  could 
not  be  in  vain.  Louis  XV.  was  fifty-eight  years  old. 
His  surgeon  had  recommended  virtue  to  him  as  being 
good  for  the  body  as  well  as  the  soul,  and  advised 
him  to  not  merely  rein  up  his  horses,  but  to  take 
them  out  of  the  traces.  Excusable  to  a  certain  degree 
in  a  young  man,  vice  is  ignoble,  ridiculous,  revolt¬ 
ing,  in  an  old  one.  Everything  combined  to  induce 
the  King  to  amend;  health,  honor,  self-interest, 
conscience,  the  clamor  of  public  opinion,  the  voice 
of  morality  and  religion,  the  dignity  of  his  throne, 
and  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  During  the  last  four 
years,  since  the  death  of  Madame  de  Pompadour  that 
is,  he  had  had  no  acknowledged  mistress.  The 
Deer  Park  was  not  closed;  but  the  mean  debauch¬ 
eries  of  that  mysterious  rendezvous  gave  less  occasion 
for  scandal  to  the  court  and  the  people  than  would  a 
reigning  favorite  in  the  palace  of  Versailles.  Louis 
XV.  showed  affection  for  his  four  remaining  daugh¬ 
ters,  Mesdames  Adelaide,  Victoire,  Sophie,  and 


LOUIS  XV.  IN  ms 


81 


Louise,  and  it  was  hoped  they  would  bring  their 
father  back  to  truly  religious  ideas.  The  Most 
Christian  King  had  faith,  and  it  might  be  believed 
that,  age  having  blunted  his  passions,  he  would  at 
last  repair  the  evils  wrought  by  his  bad  example,  by 
a  pious  and  respectable  life.  He  may  himself  have 
desired  a  reconciliation  with  God,  but  the  force  of 
habit,  the  interested  suggestions  of  persons  speculat¬ 
ing  in  vice,  a  sort  of  impulse  and  giddiness,  were 
still  to  prevail  over  reason  and  remorse. 

The  dominant  sentiment  in  the  heart  of  the  aging 
Louis  XV.  was  not  the  religious  one,  but  a  mixture 
of  apathy  and  indifference.  Men  who  have  reigned 
for  a  long  time,  whether  they  end  their  days  on  the 
throne,  abdicate,  or  die  in  exile,  are  nearly  always 
attacked,  at  the  close  of  their  career,  by  a  sort  of 
lassitude  and  disgust.  They  have  seen  so  many 
intrigues,  meannesses,  and  recantations  ;  they  have 
been  the  the  object  of  such  stupid  adulations  and 
loathsome  flatteries  ;  they  know  the  ugliness  of 
men’s  souls  so  thoroughly,  that  they  end  by  con¬ 
ceiving  an  absolute  contempt  for  human  nature. 
This  contempt  does  not  go  so  far  as  wrath  and 
indignation;  it  is  tranquil,  indolent,  disdainful. 
An  experienced  sovereign  retains  no  illusions  con¬ 
cerning  others  or  himself.  Whatever  may  be  pro¬ 
posed  to  him,  he  feels  inclined  to  answer:  What 
is  the  good  of  it? 

His  ministers,  his  courtiers,  his  mistresses,  his 
people,  inspire  him  with  equal  mistrust.  There  are 


82 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


hours  when  he  would  like  to  abandon  the  govern¬ 
mental  machine  to  itself,  so  much  is  he  afflicted  by 
the  past  and  discouraged  by  the  present.  Like  an 
old  pilot  contemplating  from  some  rocky  height  the 
barks  threatened  by  the  tempest,  which  he  can  no 
longer  aid,  the  monarch,  from  the  interior  of  his 
palace,  sees  the  ship  foundering  in  the  distance,  and 
sadly  tells  himself  that  he  is  powerless  to  save  the 
crew. 

Disturbed  by  gloomy  presentiments,  Louis  XV. 
believed  no  longer  either  in  the  prestige  of  his  throne 
or  the  future  of  his  family.  He  had  recourse  to 
petty  means,  shabby  tricks,  conspiracies  against  him¬ 
self,  in  the  hope  of  strengthening  his  tottering 
power.  As  Madame  Campan  has  so  well  remarked, 
“to  separate  Louis  de  Bourbon  from  the  King  of 
France  was  what  the  monarch  found  the  most  piquant 
thing  in  his  royal  existence.”  “They  wanted  it  so, 
they  thought  it  would  be  for  the  best.”  That  was 
the  way  he  talked  when  the  operations  of  his  minis¬ 
ters  had  been  unsuccessful.  One  might  say  he  had 
a  dual  reign,  with  two  policies  and  two  diploma¬ 
cies,  a  private  treasury  and  an  occult  government  in 
opposition  to  the  official  one. 

As  M.  Boutaric  says,  “the  man  spent  a  part  of  his 
life  in  thwarting  and  contradicting  the  king.  Curi¬ 
ous  spectacle,  that  of  an  absolute  monarch  reduced  to 
the  most  obscure  intrigues  in  order  to  obtain  his 
will,  which  he  is  afraid  to  declare,  engaging  in  an 
underhand  and  secret  struggle  with  his  ministers, 


LOUIS  XV.  IN  176S 


83 


and  at  last  deceived  in  his  expectations,  wounded  in 
his  self-love,  a  retired  conspirator,  persisting  to  his 
last  breath  in  intrigues  transparent  on  every  side, 
and  owing  it  solely  to  his  supreme  rank  that  he  does 
not  share  the  captivity  or  exile  of  his  agents,  I  was 
about  to  say  his  accomplices.”  It  was  in  this  way 
that  he  admitted  to  his  secret  diplomacy  such  per¬ 
sons  as  the  Chevalier  d’Eon,  by  turns  man  and 
woman,  and  the  famous  Count  de  Saint-Germain, 
who,  claiming  to  be  several  centuries  old,  was  sup¬ 
posed  to  possess  a  prodigious  elixir  of  long  life. 
Baron  de  Gleichen  relates  in  his  Souvenirs  that 
this  “led  to  the  composition  of  the  laughable  story 
of  the  old  chambermaid  of  a  lady  who  had  hidden 
away  a  phial  of  this  divine  liquor;  the  ancient 
soubrette  discovered  it  and  drank  so  much  of  it 
that  by  dint  of  drinking  and  rejuvenating,  she 
became  a  little  baby.” 

There  were  adventurers  in  the  personnel  of  the 
secret  diplomacy,  but  there  were  remarkable  men 
likewise.  Count  de  Broglie  was  the  chief  of  these. 
The  mysterious  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  acted 
simultaneously  with  the  official  one.  “He  pres¬ 
ently  had  trusty  agents  at  every  court;  sometimes  it 
was  the  resident  minister  himself,  unknown  to  the 
titular  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs;  more  frequently 
it  was  some  inferior  employee  of  legation,  who  thus 
became  a  spy  on  his  immediate  chief.  M.  d’Ogny, 
director  of  the  secret  postal  service,  recognized  the 
despatches  of  the  initiated  diplomatists  by  an  exte- 


84 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


rior  sign  ;  they  were  sent  to  Count  de  Broglie  through 
Guinard,  a  servant  of  the  château,  deciphered  in  the 
cabinet  of  the  Count,  and  then  sent  back  to  Louis 
XV.  with  draughts  of  replies,  to  which  the  King  each 
time  affixed  his  visa  after  making  corrections.  Baron 
de  Breteuil,  ambassador  to  Sweden  in  1766,  who  had 
been  recommended  by  the  King  to  pay  particular 
attention  to  the  affairs  of  that  country,  Count  Desal- 
leurs,  ambassador  to  Constantinople,  M.  de  Saint- 
Priest,  and  lastly,  M.  de  Vergennes,  took  part  in 
this  secret  diplomacy.1  “Count  de  Broglie  retained 
the  direction  of  it  even  after  he  had  been  exiled  in 
consequence  of  an  official  disgrace  which  was  only 
apparently  such. ”  As  M.  Geffroy  remarks  :  “Louis 
XV.,  aided  by  this  unknown  personnel,  liked  to 
direct  the  principal  affairs  himself  with  a  certain 
attention.  Perhaps,  jealous  of  all  who  surrounded 
him, —  ministers,  favorites,  and  mistresses, — he  took 
pleasure  in  being  able  to  thwart  and  oppose  them 
secretly,  in  conspiring  against  them  without  taking 
the  trouble  to  make  an  open  resistance.  His  hidden 
policy  was  frequently  more  honorable  than  the 
avowed  policy  of  the  cabinet  of  Versailles.”  M. 
Théodore  Lavallée  has  made  the  same  reflection. 
He  says  :  “  The  secret  correspondence  of  Louis  XV. 
shows  that  this  prince  had  the  sentiment  of  national 
grandeur  as  if  by  royal  instinct  and  family  tradition  ; 
it  is  full  of  good  sense,  dignity,  and  loyalty.  No 


1  Gustave  III.  et  la  Cour  de  France ,  par  M.  A.  Geffroy. 


LOUIS  XV.  IX  1768 


85 


one  can  read  it  without  regretting  that  this  noble 
policy  should  have  been  rendered  sterile  by  lack  of 
will,  that  these  profound  views  concerning  the  inter¬ 
ests  of  France’s  future  should  have  been  lost  sight  of 
in  the  debaucheries  of  the  Deer  Park.” 

What  was  lacking  to  Louis  XV.  was  not  intelli¬ 
gence  —  he  had  a  great  deal  of  it  ;  nor  was  it  the 
moral  sense,  for  even  while  doing  evil  he  had  a  clear 
idea  of  what  was  right;  it  was  will.  From  his  youth 
he  had  had  upright  and  pure  intentions,  and  from 
time  to  time  he  had  them  still,  but  he  did  not  feel  in 
himself  the  needful  energy  to  withstand  the  torrent 
of  his  time.  As  was  said  by  his  huntsman,  Le  Roy, 
that  master  of  the  hounds  whom  Sainte-Beuve  styles 
a  La  Bruyère  on  horseback,  “he  despaired  of  ever 
being  able  to  do  what  is  right,  because  one  is  always 
more  disposed  to  regard  as  impossible  in  itself  what 
one  has  not  the  courage  to  do.  To  this  point  had  a 
man  arrived  by  degrees  whose  intelligence  and  char¬ 
acter,  if  he  had  been  born  a  private  person,  would 
have  made  him  considered  above  the  common  and 
what  is  properly  called  a  gallant  man.”  In  growing 
old  he  had  preserved  a  noble  and  elegant  figure,  reg¬ 
ular  features,  a  reserved  but  subtle  and  witty  style 
of  conversation,  an  exquisite  politeness,  and  a  very 
great  care  of  his  person.  “  This  prince  was  still  be¬ 
loved  ;  one  would  have  desired  that  a  manner  of  life 
suitable  to  his  age  and  dignity  should  at  last  throw  a 
veil  over  the  aberrations  of  the  past  and  justify  the 
love  which  the  French  people  had  had  for  his  youth. 


86 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


It  pained  them  to  condemn  him  severely.  If  he  had 
established  recognized  mistresses  at  court,  the  exces¬ 
sive  devotion  of  the  Queen  was  blamed  for  it.  Mes¬ 
dames  were  reproached  for  not  trying  to  avert  the 
danger  of  seeing  the  King  arrange  another  intimacy 
for  himself  with  some  new  favorite.  People  regretted 
Madame  Henriette,  twin-sister  of  the  Duchess  of 
Parma;  this  princess  had  had  some  influence  over 
the  King’s  mind;  they  wrote  that  if  she  had  lived 
she  would  have  exerted  herself  to  provide  amuse¬ 
ments  for  him  in  the  bosom  of  his  own  family  ;  that 
she  would  have  accompanied  the  King  on  his  jour¬ 
neys,  and  would  have  done  the  honors  of  those  little 
suppers  which  he  was  fond  of  giving  in  his  private 
apartments.”  1 

Count  de  Ségur,  a  wit  and  boon  companion  par 
excellence ,  who  saw  the  last  years  of  Louis  XV.,  like¬ 
wise  speaks  of  them  with  a  certain  sympathy.  “  This 
good,  feeble  monarch,”  he  says  in  his  charming 
Memoirs,  “  was  in  his  youth  the  object  of  a  too  little 
deserved  enthusiasm  ;  the  rigorous  reproaches  cast 
upon  his  old  age  are  not  less  exaggerated.  Suc¬ 
cessor  to  the  absolute  power  of  Louis  XIV.,  he 
reigned  sixty  years  without  its  being  possible  to 
accuse  him  of  an  act  of  cruelty.  ...  No  prince  can 
be  found  who  has  not  more  or  less  participated  in  the 
errors,  weaknesses,  and  follies  of  his  time.  More¬ 
over,  the  French  have  always  shown  themselves  too 


1  Memoirs  of  Madame  Campan. 


LOUIS  XV.  IN  1768 


87 


lenient  to  this  sort  of  wrong-doings  ;  but  they  desire 
at  least  that  these  stains  should  disappear  under  the 
rays  of  some  halo  of  glory.  Hence  they  become  only 
too  indulgent  and  almost  panegyrize  the  same  faults 
when  committed  by  the  chivalrous  Francis  I.,  the 
brave  Henry,  the  majestic  Louis  XIV.,  while  they 
bitterly  reproach  the  weak  Louis  XV.  on  account  of 
them.” 

Sovereigns  are  nearly  always  the  personification  of 
their  epoch.  They  seem  to  give  the  law,  but  gener¬ 
ally  they  merely  submit  to  it.  The  contrasts  in  the 
character  of  Louis  XV.  reappear  in  the  society  of 
which  he  was  the  head.  He  belongs  to  that  period 
of  dissolution  and  decay  when,  according  to  Chateau¬ 
briand’s  expression,  “statesmen  became  men  of  letters, 
and  men  of  letters  statesmen  ;  great  nobles  bankers, 
farmers-general  great  nobles.  The  fashions  were  as 
ridiculous  as  the  arts  were  in  bad  taste  ;  they  painted 
shepherdesses  in  paniers  in  salons  where  colonels 
were  embroidering.  Everything  was  out  of  order  in 
both  minds  and  morals,  sure  sign  of  a  revolution.  .  .  . 
To  see  the  monarch  benumbed  in  voluptuousness,  the 
courtiers  corrupted,  the  ministers  malicious  or  imbe¬ 
cile,  some  ox  the  philosophers  undermining  religion, 
and  others  the  State  ;  the  nobles  either  ignorant  or 
attacked  by  the  vices  of  the  day;  the  ecclesiastics, 
at  Paris,  the  disgrace  of  their  order;  the  provinces 
full  of  prejudices,  —  one  would  have  thought  of  a 
crowd  of  workmen  hastening  to  tear  down  a  great 
edifice.” 


88 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


And  yet,  in  appearance,  there  was  very  little 
alteration.  As  Count  de  Ségur  remarks,  “the  old 
social  edifice  was  completely  ruined  in  its  lowest 
foundations,  without  any  sign  at  the  surface  which 
announced  its  approaching  fall.  The  change  in 
manners  was  unperceived  because  it  had  been  grad¬ 
ual  ;  the  etiquette  at  court  was  the  same,  —  the  same 
throne,  the  same  names,  distinctions  of  rank  and 
formalities  were  still  held  there.  The  parliaments, 
opposing  the  government,  but  in  a  respectful  manner, 
had  become  almost  republican  without  suspecting  it, 
and  were  themselves  striking  the  hour  of  revolutions 
while  supposing  they  were  merely  following  the 
examples  of  their  predecessors  when  they  resisted 
the  concordat  of  Francis  I.  and  the  fiscal  despotism 
of  Mazarin.”  Louis  XV.,  who  was  a  shrewd  observer, 
in  spite  of  his  defects,  appreciated  the  whole  gravity 
of  the  situation.  But  to  remedy  it  would  have 
demanded  genius,  —  not  merely  cleverness,  talent,  or 
wisdom.  To  conciliate,  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  necessary  liberties  with  indispensable  author¬ 
ity,  was  a  problem  which  the  greatest  of  men  might 
have  found  no  means  of  solving.  Louis  XV.  con¬ 
tented  himself  with  saying  :  “  Things  will  last  as 
they  are  as  long  as  I  do.” 

At  his  side  a  minister  was  governing  whose  char¬ 
acter  was  in  singular  contrast  with  that  of  his  master. 
The  Duke  de  Choiseul  was  as  enthusiastic,  loqua¬ 
cious,  good-humored,  as  Louis  XV.  was  reserved, 
taciturn,  and  bored.  The  monarch,  although  he 


LOUIS  XV.  IN  1768 


89 


understood  his  religion  badly,  had  a  deep  and  lively 
faith,  while  the  minister  was  Voltairean.  Liked  by 
the  parliaments,  the  aristocracy,  and  the  men  of  let¬ 
ters,  Choiseul,  with  his  audacious  petulance,  his 
brilliant  and  easy  way  of  transacting  business,  his 
seductive  and  resourceful  talent,  his  witty  even  elo¬ 
quent  conversation,  his  faith  in  his  star,  his  habit  of 
believing  all  successes  possible,  his  philosophy  which 
stopped  at  Voltaire  and  disdained  Rousseau,  his  un¬ 
conscious  prodigality,  which,  counting  on  the  future 
suppression  of  monasteries  and  the  taxation  of  eccle¬ 
siastical  property  to  supply  the  deficit,  was  untroubled 
by  the  pit  dug  beneath  the  throne,  Choiseul  was  the 
type  of  that  brave  and  charming,  frivolous  and  ad¬ 
venturous  nobility  which  marches  smilingly  toward 
an  abyss  covered  with  flowers.  “Never,”  says  Baron 
de  Gleichen  in  his  Souvenirs ,  “  have  I  known  a  man  so 
capable  as  he  of  spreading  joy  and  contentment  all 
around  his  person.  When  he  entered  a  room,  he 
rummaged  his  pockets  and  seemed  to  draw  from 
them  an  inexhaustible  abundance  of  pleasantries  and 
gaiety.” 

In  spite  of  his  charm  and  kindliness,  the  minister, 
whom  Pope  Benedict  XIV.  described  as  “  a  fool 
who  had  a  good  deal  of  genius,”  had  drawn  upon 
himself  irreconcilable  enmities.  His  rivals  and  those 
who  were  jealous  of  him  could  not  forgive  him  for 
his  lofty  fortune,  and  anxiously  sought  means  of 
overthrowing  this  colossus  who  dominated  every¬ 
thing.  In  what  salon,  by  what  means,  could  they 


90 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


hope  to  prepare  and  bring  about  the  fall  of  the  man 
who  hampered  them,  —  such  was  the  question  they 
incessantly  asked  themselves.  As  has  been  remarked 
by  Madame  Campan,  Louis  XV.  had  at  this  time 
no  relations  with  women  except  those  of  a  class 
that  could  be  of  no  use  in  a  prolonged  intrigue  ;  the 
Deer  Park,  moreover,  was  a  seraglio  in  which  the 
beauties  were  constantly  renewed.  They  would  have 
liked  to  give  the  monarch  a  mistress  who,  by  means 
of  daily  insinuations,  might  have  force  enough  to 
overthrow  the  powerful  minister.  To  fight  a  grand 
vizier,  a  sultana  was  essential.  This  was  why  the 
enemies  of  the  Duke  de  Choiseul  cast  their  eyes  upon 
the  woman  whose  beginnings  we  are  about  to  recall, 
— the  Countess  Du  Barry. 


II 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  COUNTESS  DU  BARRY 
N  the  9th  of  January,  1829,  a  curious  suit  was 


tried  before  the  civil  tribunal  of  first  instance. 


It  was  a  contest  between  two  families,  each  of  which 
claimed  to  be  the  sole  heir  of  the  Countess  Du  Barry, 
and  demanded  the  carrying  into  execution  of  a  legacy 
bequeathed  to  the  Countess  by  the  Duke  de  Cossé- 
Brissac,  massacred  by  the  revolutionists  in  1792. 
The  Duke,  while  naming  his  daughter,  Madame  de 
Mortemart,  as  universal  legatee,  had  burdened  her 
succession  by  a  legacy  which,  at  first,  could  not  be 
paid.  But  under  the  Restoration  the  Mortemart 
family,  having  received  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
indemnity  of  a  milliard,  granted  to  the  Emigrés , 
found  itself  in  a  position  to  accomplish  the  last 
wishes  of  the  Duke  de  Brissac.  The  Gomard  heirs 
presented  themselves,  appealing,  as  the  certificate  of 
Madame  Du  Barry’s  birth  to  the  following  extract, 
drawn,  they  said,  from  the  baptismal  registers  of  the 
parish  of  Vaucouleurs,  diocese  of  Toul:  “Jeanne, 
daughter  of  Jean-Jacquard  Gomard  de  Vaubernier 
and  Anne  Bécu,  called  Quantigny,  was  born  August 


91 


92 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


19,  1746,  and  was  baptized  the  saine  day,  had  Joseph 
de  Mange  for  godfather  and  Jeanne  de  Birabin  for 
godmother,  who  have  signed  with  me  :  L.  Galon, 
vicar  of  Vaueouleurs,  Joseph  de  Mange  and  Jeanne 
de  Birabin.” 

The  heirs  on  the  maternal  side,  the  Bécus,  also  pre¬ 
sented  themselves.  They  came  not  merely  to  share, 
but  to  contest  with  the  Gomards  all  rights  of  suc¬ 
cession  to  Madame  Du  Barry.  They  maintained  that 
the  certificate  of  birth  furnished  by  the  latter  was 
false,  having  been  fabricated  in  1768  to  flatter  the 
Countess,  and  they  opposed  to  it  another  act,  taken 
from  the  civil  registers  of  the  town  of  Vaueouleurs, 
September  25, 1827,  and  which  was  expressed  in  these 
terms:  “Jeanne,  natural  daughter  of  Anne  Bécu, 
called  Quantigny,  was  born  August  19,  1743,  and 
baptized  the  same  day.  For  godfather  she  had 
Joseph  Demange,  and  for  godmother  Jeanne  Bira¬ 
bin.” 

By  judgment  of  January  9,  1829, — a  judgment 
confirmed  by  a  decree  of  the  royal  court  of  Paris, 
February  22,  1830, —  the  Seine  tribunal  of  first  in¬ 
stance  decided  in  favor  of  the  Bécu  heirs.  The 
certificate  of  birth  produced  by  the  Gomards  was 
declared  apocryphal.  The  tribunals  thus  established 
that  in  1768  a  genealogy  of  complaisance  had  been 
invented  in  favor  of  the  mistress  of  Louis  XV.  Of 
a  natural  daughter  they  had  made  a  legitimate 
daughter.  The  Bécu  girl  had  been  transformed  into 
a  Demoiselle  Gomard  de  Vaubernier.  The  “par- 


BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  COUNTESS  DU  BARRY  93 


tide  ”  was  attributed  to  the  godfather,  M.  Demange, 
and  to  the  godmother,  Jeanne  Birabin,  “  la  Birabine,’’ 
as  they  said  in  the  country,  who  became  Madame  de 
Birabin.  The  fawning  spirit  went  to  even  further 
lengths.  The  favorite  was  made  younger  and  made 
to  come  into  the  world,  not  on  August  19,  1743,  the 
real  day  of  her  birth,  but  three  years  later,  August 
19,  1746.  In  his  interesting  work,  Les  Curiosités 
historiques ,  M.  Le  Roi,  the  learned  curator  of  the 
Versailles  library,  has  told  the  truth  about  the  origin 
of  the  Countess  Du  Barry.  He  has  given  her  back 
her  true  name  :  Jeanne  Bécu.  He  has  refuted  the 
numberless  falsehoods  which  tended  to  create  an 
absolutely  false  legend  on  the  subject  of  the  royal 
mistress. 

The  child  who  was  one  day  to  call  herself  the  Coun¬ 
tess  Du  Barry  had  for  mother  a  simple  peasant.  She 
had  to  struggle  against  poverty  from  her  cradle.  A 
commissary  of  provisions,  M.  Dumonceau,  gave  her 
the  first  elements  of  instruction  through  charity.  He 
placed  her  in  the  convent  of  Saint  Anne,  with  two 
pairs  of  sheets  and  six  napkins  by  way  of  trousseau. 
It  is  said  that  she  afterwards  peddled  haberdashery 
through  the  streets,  and  later  on,  under  the  name  of 
Mademoiselle  Rançon,  the  name  of  the  husband  re¬ 
cently  taken  by  her  mother,  entered  the  millinery 
shop  of  one  M.  Mabille,  rue  Saint  Honoré.  It  seems 
the  little  shop  girl  was  not  a  model  of  virtue.  Alas  ! 
the  snares  of  every  kind  with  which  pretty  girls  are 
surrounded  make  goodness  and  beauty  what  may 


94 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


almost  be  called  incompatible  things  in  the  poorer 
classes.  The  milliner  encountered  one  of  those  men 
who  are  met  in  every  capital,  — Count  Jean  Du  Barry. 
He  said  to  himself  that  so  charming  a  person  ought 
to  make  her  way,  and  in  his  enthusiasm  he  gave  her 
a  seraphic  title  :  he  called  her  Mademoiselle  l’Ange. 
This  angel,  of  an  inferior  order,  presided  at  the 
gambling-parties  given  by  the  Count.  It  was  there 
Dumouriez  saw  her  in  1764.  In  1764  the  Duke  de 
Lauzun  followed  her  from  the  opera  ball,  and  found 
her  truly  ravishing.  Lebel,  valet-de-chambre  to  Louis 
XV.,  who,  in  consequence  of  his  special  functions 
was  on  the  track  of  all  dainties  for  the  King,  thought 
he  would  do  well  to  place  Mademoiselle  l’Ange  on  the 
list  of  his  clients.  He  fancied  she  would  be  only  the 
favorite  of  a  daj^  and  night  and  would  then  dis¬ 
appear,  after  having  had  her  place  in  the  Deer  Park 
but  an  instant.  He  was  mistaken.  The  former  milli¬ 
ner  was  destined  to  a  succession  that  had  been  vacant 
four  years,  —  that  of  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour. 

Instead  of  imitating  the  great  ladies  who  fatigued 
the  King,  she  showed  herself  just  as  she  was,  under 
the  aspect  of  a  veritable  courtesan,  with  all  the 
cynicism,  animation,  and  refinements  of  her  trade. 
Louis  XV.  found  his  jaded  senses  revive  as  if  by 
miracle.  He  was  delighted  by  it.  The  new  favorite 
seemed  to  him  an  exceptional  being.  He  determined 
to  cover  her  with  a  rain  of  gold  and  jewels,  and 
make  her  the  first  femme  entretenue  in  France,  in 
all  Europe. 


BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  COUNTESS  DU  BARRY  95 


Thinking  that  a  demoiselle  could  not  decently 
fulfil  the  functions  of  royal  mistress,  he  decided  that 
he  would  at  once  make  the  new  favorite  a  married 
woman  and  a  woman  of  title.  Nothing  easier  than 
to  find  her  a  nominal  husband  who,  having  received 
a  goodly  sum,  would  quietly  retire  behind  the  scenes 
and  not  appear  again  on  the  Stage.  Count  Jean  Du 
Barry  could  not  play  this  lucrative  part  himself, 
seeing  that  he  was  already  married.  But  he  had  a 
bachelor  brother  who  seemed  made  expressly  for  the 
circumstance.  This  complaisant  brother  was  called 
Count  William  Du  Barry.  He  was  a  poor  officer  of 
marines,  who  lived  at  Toulouse,  with  his  mother. 
To  summon  him  to  Paris,  to  marry  him  to  the 
mistress  of  Louis  XV.,  to  give  him  a  large  sum  and 
send  him  back  at  once  to  Toulouse,  was  but  the 
affair  of  a  few  days.  Queen  Marie  Leczinska  had 
died  June  24,  1768.  Her  husband  did  not  lament 
her  long,  for  he  was  smitten  the  next  month  with 
this  so-called  Jeanne  Gomard  de  Vaubernier,  this 
Jeanne  Bécu,  called  l’Ange,  who  was  about  to  become 
Madame  the  Countess  Du  Barry.  The  contract  was 
signed,  July  28,  in  presence  of  the  notaries  Du 
Châtelet  of  Paris,  and  this  comedy  marriage  was 
celebrated,  September  1,  at  the  church  of  Saint 
Laurent,  Auteuil.  The  nuptial  benediction  once  given, 
the  husband  departed  for  Toulouse,  and  the  wife  went 
to  take  up  her  quarters  at  Versailles. 

Louis  XV.  congratulated  himself  on  his  choice. 
Madame  Du  Barry  was  neither  learned  nor  witty  ; 


9G 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


she  had  no  relatives  well  placed  at  court,  and  to  the 
monarch  these  seemed  very  great  advantages.  He 
did  not  want  either  a  great  lady,  like  the  Duchess 
de  Châteauroux,  who  would  have  arrived  with  a 
cortege  of  relations  and  favorites,  nor  a  female 
politician,  like  Madame  de  Pompadour,  who  would 
constantly  busy  herself  with  parliaments  and  the 
clergy.  What  he  desired  was  not  a  female  adviser, 
but  an  amusement. 


MADAME  DU  BARRY 


Ill 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  THE  COUNTESS  DU  BARRY 
HAT  would  the  Countess  Du  Barry  become  ? 


V  V  Would  she  be  an  ephemeral  mistress,  like 
the  women  of  the  Deer  Park,  or  would  she  have  the 
official  position  of  favorite?  This  was  what  every¬ 
body  was  asking.  The  important  thing  to  know  was 
whether  or  not  she  would  be  presented.  Bets  were 
openly  made  on  this  question  at  Versailles.  The 
Duke  de  Choiseul,  hostile  to  the  new  countess,  was 
against  the  presentation.  But  the  King  desired  it. 
His  will  finally  prevailed.  He  had  known  Madame 
Du  Barry  since  July,  1768,  but  she  was  not  presented 
until  April  22,  1769.  The  ceremony  took  place  with 
the  ordinary  formalities.  After  having  received  the 
command  of  the  King,  who  had  already  been  told  the 
names  of  the  sponsor,  a  lady  making  the  presenta¬ 
tion,  and  of  her  two  assistants,  who  must  always  be 
women  of  the  court,  they  arrived  at  the  door  of  the 
grand  cabinet  in  full  toilette  ;  that  is,  in  robes 
stretched  over  hoops  measuring  three  and  a  half  ells 
in  circumference,  a  long  mantle  clasped  at  the  waist, 
a  suitable  bodice,  flowing  lappets,  and  as  many  dia- 


97 


98 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


monds  as  they  had  been  able  to  procure.  Madame 
Du  Barry’s  sponsor  was  the  Countess  de  Béarn. 
Louis  XV.  looked  radiant.  He  enjoyed  the  triumph 
of  the  woman  he  had  chosen. 

Thenceforward  he  was  settled.  Madame  Du  Barry 
was  sufficient  for  her  royal  lover,  who  was  tired 
of  going  clandestinely  to  the  Deer  Park,  where 
he  was  obliged  to  hide  himself,  and  was  conse¬ 
quently  not  at  ease.  He  closed  that  mysterious 
establishment  and  lodged  his  new  mistress  in  the 
chateau  of  Versailles,  in  an  apartment  on  the  second 
story,  just  over  that  which  he  occupied  himself. 
He  could  go  to  her  at  any  hour,  and  unobserved, 
by  a  staircase  leading  to  the  Deer  Court.  A  door 
opening  on  a  small  landing  gave  admission  to  one 
of  the  two  cabinets  situated  near  the  alcove  of  the 
favorite’s  chamber.  Her  apartment  formed  a  suite 
of  boudoirs  each  more  elegant  than  another.  It 
was  the  last  word  of  luxury.  The  bedroom  clock 
represented  the  three  Graces  supporting  a  vase 
in  which  was  a  revolving  dial,  while  above  it  Love 
indicated  the  hours  with  his  arrow.  The  most 
exquisite  objects  of  art,  marvels  of  upholstery, 
bronzes,  marble,  lacquer  work,  china,  statuettes, 
abounded  in  this  asylum  of  voluptuous  pleasure. 

“  It  is  the  senseless  dream  of  a  gay  woman,”  say 
Messrs,  de  Goncourt;  “a  folly  of  expenditure,  an 
extravagance  of  luxury.  Millions  are  flung  away 
for  the  caprices  of  fashion,  for  rarities  in  jewelry, 
point  lace,  silk  and  velvet,  a  flood  of  money  ;  the 


TRIUMPHS  OF  THE  COUNTESS  HU  BARR  Y  99 


royal  treasure  flowing  through  the  hands  of  a  pretty 
woman  upon  the  world  of  tailors,  milliners,  dress¬ 
makers.” 

All  this  life  spent  in  furnishing,  in  giving  orders 
and  commissions,  in  toilettes  and  purchases  of  every 
sort,  is  wholly  fantastic  and  capricious.  Her  apart¬ 
ment  in  the  château  of  Versailles  no  longer  suffices 
the  Countess.  Louis  XV.  gives  her  a  house  in  the 
city,  rue  de  l’Orangerie,1  where  she  installs  herself 
with  her  attendants  and  her  equipages.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  year  1769,  she  receives  one  hundred 
thousand  livres  as  a  life  annuity  on  the  city  of  Paris, 
and  a  pension  of  ten  thousand  livres  on  the  States 
of  Burgundy.  July  24  of  the  same  year,  her 
generous  lover,  who  is  more  and  more  contented 
with  her,  compliments  her  by  presenting  the  beau¬ 
tiful  chateau  of  Luciennes,  bought  from  the  Duke 
de  Penthièvre.  The  favorite  triumphs  ;  she  has 
the  same  retinue,  riches,  and  position  as  the  Mar¬ 
quise  de  Pompadour.  Young,  pretty,  seductive, 
with  her  blue  eyes  and  brown  eyebrows,  her  fair 
hair,  her  little  Grecian  nose,  her  rosy  lips  and  satin 
skin,  her  mild  yet  roguish  expression,  she  shines 
with  all  the  splendor  of  her  twenty-five  years. 
Hers  is  not  a  majestic  beauty,  but  a  sprightly  and 
frolicsome  one  which  retains  a  certain  carelessness 
and  negligence  even  when  arrayed  in  the  most 
magnificent  toilettes.  It  cannot  be  denied  that 


1  The  house  is  No.  2  at  present. 


100 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


she  possesses  charm.  Louis  XV.  seems  bewitched 
by  her.  Marshal  de  Richelieu,  who  was  so  severe 
on  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour,  gives  the  Countess 
Du  Barry  his  entire  approbation.  The  Marquise  Du 
Deffand  writes  to  Horace  Walpole,  June  25, 1769:  — 
“  Out  in  the  country,  the  other  day,  while  the 
master  of  the  house  (the  King)  was  playing  whist, 
the  head  of  the  conspiracy  (Marshal  de  Richelieu) 
set  up  a  little  game  of  lansquenet  to  teach  it  to  the 
lady  (Madame  Du  Barry).  He  lost  two  hundred  and 
fifty  louis.  The  master  of  the  house  jeered  at  him, 
asking  him  how  he  could  have  lost  at  such  a  small 
game  ;  he  answered  by  a  quotation  from  the  opera  :  — 

“  ‘  Le  plus  sage 
S’enflamme  et  s’engage 
Sans  savoir  comment.’ 1 

The  master  laughed  and  all  the  troupe.” 

There  were  people,  however,  who  did  not  go  into 
ecstasies  over  the  beauty  of  the  new  favorite.  In 
September,  1769,  Horace  Walpole  saw  her  in  the 
chapel  of  the  chateau  of  Versailles.  He  did  not 
admire  her  much,  and  thus  describes  the  impression 
she  made  on  him  in  a  letter  to  George  Montagu  :  “  A 
first  row  in  the  balconies  was  kept  for  us.  Madame 
Du  Barry  arrived  over  against  us  below,  without 
rouge,  without  powder,  and  indeed  sans  avoir  fait 
sa  toilette;  an  odd  appearance,  as  she  was  so  con¬ 
spicuous,  close  to  the  altar,  and  amidst  both  court 


1  TJie  wisest  takes  fire  and  pledges  himself  without  knowing  how. 


TRIUMPHS  OF  THE  COUXTESS  DU  BARRY  101 


and  people.  She  is  pretty,  when  you  consider  her  ; 
yet  so  little  striking,  that  I  never  should  have  asked 
who  she  was.  There  is  nothing  bold,  assuming,  or 
affected  in  her  manner.  Her  husband’s  sister  was 
along  with  her.  In  the  Tribune  above,  surrounded 
by  prelates,  was  the  amorous  and  still  handsome 
King.  One  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  mixture 
of  piety,  pomp,  and  carnality.” 

Madame  Du  Barry  was  the  first  to  be  astonished  by 
her  lot.  Her  transformation  into  a  great  lady  seemed 
to  her  a  disguise.  She  was  still  more  surprised  when 
they  tried  to  make  a  political  woman  of  her.  Devoid 
of  hatred,  ambition,  or  calculation,  she  asked  for 
nothing  but  to  occupy  herself  with  her  toilettes  and 
her  furniture.  Politics  seemed  to  her  a  tedious 
thing.  What  were  parliaments,  the  clergy,  and  di¬ 
plomacy  to  her?  She  had  a  good  many  other  things 
to  think  about.  From  the  time  when  she  had  made 
her  entry  at  court  she  had  asked  for  nothing  but  to 
live  at  peace  with  all  the  ministers.  She  sent  word 
to  the  Duke  de  Choiseul  that  if  he  wanted  to  be 
friends  with  her,  she  would  go  half  way  to  meet  him. 
The  person  who  carried  this  message  recalled  the  fact 
that  mistresses  drive  out  ministers,  and  ministers  do 
not  drive  out  mistresses.  The  Duke  contented  him¬ 
self  with  replying  coldly  by  a  vague  promise  to  grant 
such  of  Madame  Du  Barry’s  demands  as  he  considered 
just.1  The  enemies  of  the  minister  had  the  greatest 


1  Sénac  de  Meilhan,  Portraits  et  Caractères  des  personnes  dis¬ 
tinguées  de  la  fin  du  XV TU.  siècle. 


102 


LAST  YE  ABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


difficulty,  notwithstanding  their  incessant  efforts,  in 
persuading  the  inoffensive  Countess  to  oppose  him. 
At  first  her  attacks  on  him  were  only  skirmishes,  or 
better,  mere  roguish  tricks.  The  Marquise  Du  Deffand 
wrote  to  Horace  Walpole,  November  2,  1769:  “  The 
grandpapa  ”  (the  nickname  given  to  Choiseul)  “  daily 
receives  little  affronts,  such  as  not  being  named  or 
invited  for  the  little  cabinet  suppers,  and, when  visit¬ 
ing  Madame  Du  Barry,  grimaces  when  he  is  her 
partner  at  whist,  —  mockeries,  shruggings  of  the 
shoulders  ;  in  fine,  the  petty  revenges  of  a  school¬ 
girl.” 

Meanwhile  the  friends  of  the  Duke  de  Choiseul 
did  not  as  yet  disquiet  themselves,  and  Madame 
Du  Deffand  Avrote,  to  Walpole,  January  15,  1770: 
“  Dame  Du  Barry  has  no  influence,  and  there  seems 
no  likelihood  that  she  ever  will  have  any  ;  she  has 
neither  affection  nor  hatred  for  anybody  ;  she  can 
say  what  they  make  her  say,  like  a  parrot,  but  without 
design,  interest,  or  passion  ;  no  one  contrives  to  gov¬ 
ern  with  a  character  like  that.”  However,  the  security 
of  the  Marquise  as  to  the  fate  of  the  Duke  de  Choiseul 
did  not  last  long  :  “  The  controller-general  is  at  the 

feet  of  Madame  Du  Barry,  and  does  not  blush  at  it,” 
she  wrote,  March  3,  1770;  “he  says  he  is  following 
the  example  of  all  ministers  who  want  to  be  listened 
to  by  kings,  and  even  to  be  useful  to  them.  Just  at 
present  our  friend  seems  well  disposed  ;  but  I  doubt 
Avhether  the  year  will  end  without  a  great  revolution.” 
In  the  same  letter  she  adds  :  “  The  King  continues 


TRIUMPHS  OF  THE  COUNTESS  DU  BARRY  103 


much  smitten  with  his  dame,  but  without  showing 
her  much  consideration  ;  he  treats  her  sufficiently 
like  a  wench  ;  in  fine,  she  will  be  good  or  bad  ac¬ 
cording  to  him  who  rules  her;  her  own  character 
will  influence  nothing.  She  may  servé  the  passions 
of  others,  but  never  with  the  warmth  and  success  one 
has  when  one  shares  them  ;  she  will  repeat  her  les¬ 
son  ;  but  in  circumstances  where  she  has  not  been 
inspired,  her  own  genius  will  not  make  up  for  it.” 

At  this  epoch  a  malicious  stanza  got  into  circula¬ 
tion  which  is  quoted  in  one  of  the  letters  of  the 
Marquise  (November  2,  1769).  It  was  considered 
to  sum  up  the  complaints  of  the  Duke  de  Choiseul, 
the  friend  of  Madame  de  Pompadour,  the  enemy  of 
Madame  Du  Barry.  It  was  sung  to  the  air  of  Vive 
le  Vin ,  Vive  V Amour. 

“  Vive  le  roi  !  Foin  de  l’Amour  ! 

Le  drôle  m’a  joué  d’un  tour, 

Qui  peut  confondre  mon  audace. 

La  Du  Barry,  pour  moi  de  glace, 

Va,  dit-on,  changer  mes  destins. 

Jadis,  je  dus  ma  fortune  aux  catins  ; 

Je  leur  devrai  donc  ma  disgrace.”*  1 

Madame  Du  Barry  let  herself  be  dragged  into 


1  Long  live  the  King  !  The  deuce  take  Love  ! 
The  rogue  has  played  me  a  trick 
Which  may  take  down  my  presumption. 
The  Du  Barry,  cold  as  ice  to  me, 

Is  about,  they  say,  to  change  my  destiny. 

Of  old  I  owed  my  fortune  to  wantons  ; 

I  am  going  then  to  owe  them  my  disgrace. 


104 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


the  struggle  almost  against  her  will.  Three  men 
urged  her  on  :  the  Duke  d’ Aiguillon,  the  Abbé 
Terray,  the  Chancellor  Maupeou.  Surrounded  by 
this  triumvirate,  the  Countess  smilingly  entered  the 
political  lists.  One  can  understand  what  indigna¬ 
tion  such  an  enemy  must  have  caused  a  man  so  bold 
and  haughty  as  the  Duke  de  Choiseul.  He  chafed 
at  his  bit.  His  power  was  only  to  last  some  months 
longer.  But  before  his  downfall  he  was  to  see  the 
arrival  in  France  of  the  princess  whose  marriage  with 
the  Dauphin  he  had  negotiated,  that  charming  and 
poetic  young  girl  who  appeared  in  an  aged  court  like 
a  beam  of  pure  light,  that  touching  victim  of  fatality 
whose  suave  and  august  countenance  make  a  striking 
contrast  with  that  of  the  Du  Barry,  and  whose  name 
cannot  be  pronounced  without  an  unspeakable 
blending  of  sympathy  and  compassion,  tenderness, 
and  respect,  —  Marie  Antoinette. 

At  the  moment  when  all  minds  were  occupied  with 
the  coming  marriage  of  the  Archduchess  with  the 
Prince  who  was  one  day  to  be  called  Louis  XVI.,  a 
novice  was  praying  in  the  convent  of  Carmelites  at 
Saint  Denis  for  the  safety  of  France,  menaced  by  so 
many  catastrophes.  This  novice  was  one  of  the 
daughters  of  Louis  XV.  While  egotism  and 
voluptuousness  dominated  in  the  palace  of  Ver¬ 
sailles,  the  spirit  of  immolation  and  self-sacrifice 
took  refuge  in  a  convent,  near  the  last  dwelling- 
place  of  kings.  Madame  Du  Barry  was  scandal  ; 
Madame  Louise  of  France,  edification. 


IV 


MADAME  LOUISE  OF  FRANCE,  CARMELITE  NOVICE 
E  are  in  1770.  Madame  Louise  of  France, 


V  V  the  youngest  of  the  daughters  of  Louis  XV., 
is  thirty-two  years  old.  “For  some  years,”  says 
Madame  Campan,  “  Madame  Louise  had  led  a  very 
retired  life  ;  I  used  to  read  to  her  five  hours  a  day  ; 
my  voice  often  betrayed  the  fatigue  of  my  chest  ;  the 
Princess  would  then  prepare  sugared  water  and  place 
it  beside  me,  excusing  herself  for  making  me  read 
so  long  by  saying  it  was  necessary  for  her  to  finish  a 
course  of  reading  she  had  undertaken.”  Why  is  the 
King’s  daughter  bent  on  finishing  this  course  so 
quickly?  That  is  her  secret.  In  appearance,  she  is 
leading  a  luxurious  life.  In  reality,  she  is  silently 
making  her  mysterious  apprenticeship  of  renuncia¬ 
tion  and  immolation,  accustoming  herself  to  endure 
excessive  cold  or  heat,  and  wearing  beneath  her 
linen  the  serge  of  the  Carmelites.  In  the  evenings, 
when  she  is  alone  in  her  room,  she  extinguishes  her 
wax  tapers  and  lights  candles,  so  as  to  habituate  her¬ 
self  to  the  odor  of  tallow,  which  at  first  had  caused 
her  unendurable  repugnance.  “She  had  a  lofty 


105 


106 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


soul,”  says  Madame  Campan;  “slie  loved  great 
things  ;  she  used  often  to  interrupt  my  reading  to 
exclaim:  ‘How  fine  that  is!  Hoav  noble!’  There 
was  hut  one  brilliant  action  which  she  could  per¬ 
form  :  to  quit  a  palace  for  a  cell,  rich  garments  for 
a  robe  of  frieze;  she  performed  it.” 

Certain  writers  who,  being  devoid  of  the  religious 
sentiment,  persist  in  seeing  the  earth  everywhere, 
and  never  look  at  heaven,  have  insisted  on  attrib¬ 
uting  the  holy  resolutions  of  Madame  Louise  to 
human  motives,  and  barely  refrained  from  describ¬ 
ing  a  Carmelite  as  an  ambitious  intriguant.  M. 
Honoré  Bonhomme,  the  author  of  Louis  XV.  et  sa 
famille ,  was  better  inspired  Avhen  he  Avrote  :  “  When 
the  Queen  died,  Louis  XV.  had  had  a  glimmering 
of  repentance.  People  might  have  fancied  that  his 
morals  were  to  be  more  regular;  but  no!  Very 
speedily  a  new  favorite,  the  Du  Barry,  was  pre¬ 
sented,  and  Ave  knoAv  the  rest.  Now,  it  was  after 
this  signal  relapse  on  her  father’s  part,  when  she 
saAV  him  fall  back  soul  and  body,  and  deeper  than 
ever,  into  shameful  disorders,  that,  heartbroken  Avith 
sorrow,  and  deprived  of  all  hope,  Madame  Louise 
hastened  to  demand  of  God,  in  the  austerity  of  the 
cloister,  not  pardon  for  herself,  —  she  did  not  need 
it,  —  not  the  calm  and  repose  Avhich  were  lacking  to 
her,  —  she  had  sacrificed  them,  —  but  to  ask  of  God, 
Avith  tears  and  fervor,  the  conversion  of  her  father, 
the  salvation  of  the  King.” 

The  Countess  Du  Barry’s  formal  presentation  at 


MADAME  LOUISE  OF  FRANCE 


107 


court  took  place  April  22,  1769.  January  30,  1770, 
Madame  Louise  charged  Monseigneur  de  Beaumont, 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  to  ask  the  King  to  allow  her  to 
enter  the  religious  state.  Profoundly  surprised  by 
so  unexpected  a  communication,  Louis  XV.  remained 
silent  for  awhile.  Then  he  exclaimed  several  times: 
“This  is  cruel!  this  is  cruel!”  and  deferred  his  re¬ 
ply  for  a  fortnight.  The  desired  consent  was  at 
last  obtained.  The  Abbé  du  Terney,  the  Princess’s 
confessor,  brought  her  the  following  letter  from  the 
King,  dated  February  20,  1770:  — 

“Monseigneur  the  Archbishop,  my  dear  daughter, 
having  given  me  an  account  of  all  that  you  have 
said  and  written  to  him,  will  surely  have  acquainted 
you  exactly  with  all  I  said  to  him  in  reply.  If  it 
is  for  God  alone,  I  cannot  oppose  myself  to  His  will 
nor  to  His  determination.  You  must  have  made 
your  reflections  ;  hence,  I  have  nothing  more  to  ask 
concerning  them;  it  seems  even  that  your  arrange¬ 
ments  are  made;  you  can  speak  of  them  to  your 
sisters  when  you  think  proper.  Compiègne  is  not 
possible;  you  may  choose  any  other  place,  and  I 
would  be  very  sorry  to  prescribe  anything  on  the 
subject.  I  have  made  some  involuntary  sacrifices  ; 
this  one  will  be  voluntary  on  your  part.  God  will 
give  you  strength  to  support  your  new  state,  for,  the 
step  once  taken,  there  can  be  no  return.  I  embrace 
you  with  all  my  heart,  my  dear  daughter,  and  give 
you  my  blessing.” 

There  was,  at  Saint  Denis,  a  Carmelite  convent, 


108 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


so  poor  that  the  nuns  had  been  obliged  to  make 
retrenchments  in  their  food,  already  so  frugal,  and 
the  baker  was  beginning  to  refuse  them  bread.  It 
was  this  house,  reduced  to  profound  distress  and 
threatened  with  dissolution  for  lack  of  pecuniary 
resources,  that  Madame  Louise  selected  for  her  final 
refuge.  At  the  very  time  when  the  nuns  were 
making  a  novena  to  entreat  God  to  provide  for  the 
existence  of  their  community,  Louis  XV.  gave  his 
daughter  the  permission  she  had  so  ardently  desired. 
Madame  Louise  still  maintained  absolute  secrecy, 
especially  with  her  sisters,  whose  remarks  she  may 
have  dreaded.  April  5,  1770,  she  received  the  fol¬ 
lowing  note  from  Louis  XV.,  dated  at  Choisy  :  — 

“  I  embrace  you  with  all  my  heart,  my  dear  daugh¬ 
ter,  and  send  you  the  order  you  spoke  to  me  about 
for  your  departure,  and  I  will  execute  what  you  de¬ 
sire  for  your  domestics,  and  all  your  other  arrange¬ 
ments.  You  will  have  only  a  word  from  me  this 
evening,  my  little  heart,  for  it  is  late.”  In  the 
morning  of  April  11,  the  Princess  entered  a  car¬ 
riage,  at  Versailles,  with  a  maid  of  honor  and  an 
equerry,  and  drove  to  Saint  Denis.  She  wore  a 
plain  silk  dress  under  a  large  black  mantle,  and  a 
high  bonnet  adorned  with  a  bunch  of  red  ribbons. 
On  reaching  Saint  Denis,  she  said:  “To  the  Car¬ 
melites.”  The  door  of  the  cloister  opened,  and 
Madame  Louise  disappeared  behind  it.  Her  maid  of 
honor,  the  Princess  de  Ghistelles,  and  her  equerry, 
M.  d’Haranguier  de  Quincerot,  thought  she  would 


MADAME  LOUISE  OF  FRANCE 


109 


return  after  having  heard  Mass.  Their  surprise  can 
be  imagined  when,  summoned  within  the  convent 
by  the  Princess,  they  read  the  King’s  order. 

During  the  day,  the  sisters  of  the  novice  learned 
what  had  occurred.  At  first  they  were  in  despair; 
but  after  the  first  involuntary  anger  had  passed  away, 
they  felt  nothing  but  respect  for  so  pious  a  resolu¬ 
tion.  In  his  hook  on  the  daughters  of  Louis  XV., 
which  is  so  full  of  facts  and  documents,  M.  Edouard 
de  Barthélemy  has  given  the  letters  written  her  by 
Mesdames  Adelaide  and  Sophie.  This  is  Madame 
Adelaide’s  :  — 

“  Thou  canst  fancy  better  than  I  can  express  what 
has  passed  and  is  still  passing  in  my  heart.  My 
grief  equals  my  astonishment  ;  but  thou  art  happy, 
and  that  is  all  I  want.  Pray  God  for  me,  dear  heart, 
thou  knowest  my  needs  ;  they  are  more  than  ever 
pressing  just  now.  I  will  certainly  go  to  see  thee 
as  soon  as  I  have  strength  enough,  and  thou  canst 
receive  me  without  feeling  disturbed.  Adieu,  dear 
heart.  I  am  going  to  Tenebrce,  where  I  fear  I  shall 
be  a  little  distracted.  Love  me  always,  and  believe 
I  shall  return  it  well.” 

Here  is  the  letter  of  Madame  Sophie  :  — 

“If  I  never  spoke  to  thee  again,  dear  heart,  of 
the  desire  I  suspected  in  thee  to  become  a  nun,  it 
is  because  I  thought  thou  wouldst  never  carry  it  into 
effect.  I  pardon  thee  with  all  my  heart  for  telling 
me  nothing  about  it.  Thy  sacrifice  is  beautiful, 
because  it  is  voluntary.  But  dost  think  that  the  one 


110 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


thou  hast  imposed  on  me,  in  leaving  us,  and  which 
is  not  voluntary,  is  not  as  hard  to  bear?  Be  very 
sure,  dear  heart,  that  I  love  thee,  that  I  will  love 
thee  all  my  life,  and  that  when  thou  permittest,  I 
will  go  to  see  thee  with  much  eagerness.  I  embrace 
thee  with  all  my  heart.” 

A  diplomatic  circular  addressed  to  the  King’s 
ambassadors  at  foreign  courts  notified  them  of  the 
“exemplary  and  affecting  event”  which  had  just 
occurred,  and  Pope  Clement  XIV.  addressed  to  the 
Most  Christian  King  a  brief  which  resembled  a  can¬ 
ticle  of  thanksgiving. 

Madame  Campan  relates  that  when  she  went  to 
see  the  Princess  at  the  convent  for  the  first  time, 
she  found  her  coming  out  of  the  laundry,  where  her 
king’s  daughter’s  hands  had  just  been  doing  the 
washing.  The  novice  said  to  her  former  reader  at 
this  time  :  “  I  greatly  abused  your  young  lungs  for 
two  years  before  executing  my  purpose.  I  knew  I 
could  read  nothing  here  but  books  tending  to  our 
salvation,  and  I  wanted  to  review  all  the  historians 
who  had  interested  me.”  Speaking  afterwards  of 
her  religious  vocation,  she  said:  “Believe  me, 
the  moralists  are  right  when  they  say  that  happiness 
does  not  dwell  in  palaces;  I  have  acquired  a  cer¬ 
tainty  of  that.  If  you  wish  to  be  happy,  I  advise 
you  to  come  and  enjoy  a  retreat  where  the  most 
active  mind  might  find  full  exercise  in  the  contem¬ 
plation  of  a  better  world.” 

The  grating  is  closed  at  last  upon  the  daughter  of 


MADAME  LOUISE  OF  FRANCE 


111 


Louis  XV.  Between  her  and  the  world  the  gulf  has 
become  impassable.  What  a  contrast  between  the 
palace  and  the  cloister!  Yesterday,  all  splendor 
and  magnificence,  radiant  galleries,  marble  stair¬ 
cases,  majestic  apartments  ;  to-day,  humility,  pov¬ 
erty,  a  monotonous  existence,  the  rigors  of  enclosure. 
Yesterday,  robes  of  gold  brocade,  laces,  precious 
stones,  diadems  ;  to-day,  the  frieze  habit,  the  bitter 
chalice.  Yesterday,  noise,  worldly  animation;  to¬ 
day,  the  silence  and  obscurity  of  the  tomb. 

They  say  that  certain  courtiers  who  did  not  com¬ 
prehend  Madame  Louise,  criticised  or  pitied  her; 
that  the  Maréchale  de  Mirepoix  called  her  “a  mad 
woman,  entering  the  cloister  to  annoy  the  court  in 
the  name  of  Heaven”;  that  the  Duke  d’Agen  thought 
he  proved  his  wit  by  saying:  “If  Madame  Louise  is 
in  such  a  hurry  to  go  to  Paradise,  it  is  because  she 
wants  to  be  certain  of  not  spending  eternity  with 
her  family.” 

The  Marquise  Du  Deffand,  who  plays  the  philoso¬ 
pher,  writes  in  one  of  her  letters  :  “  Tins  adventure 
has  not  made  a  great  sensation.  People  shrug  their 
shoulders,  pity  her  weakness  of  mind,  and  talk  of 
something  else.” 

The  sarcastic  Marquise  compassionates  a  princess 
who,  says  she,  “makes  herself  miserable  for  chime¬ 
ras.”  Madame  Du  Deffand  is  mistaken;  with  all 
her  intelligence,  she  is  much  more  to  be  pitied  than 
Madame  Louise.  There  are  a  good  many  more 
chimeras  in  her  salon  than  in  the  Carmelite  convent. 


112 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


As  to  Louis  XV.,  he  was  profoundly  convinced  that 
his  daughter  was  happy.  “But,  Sire,”  Madame  Du 
Barry  said  to  him  one  day,  “Madame  Louise  will 
have  a  wretched  fate  at  the  convent!”  —  “Not  at 
all,”  he  replied,  “she  will  he  the  most  tranquil  one 
of  the  family.  The  devotees  did  not  invent  quiet¬ 
ism  for  nothing.”  Perhaps  the  voluptuous  monarch 
himself  felt,  at  times,  a  disgust  for  his  palaces,  and 
what  one  might  call  a  homesickness  for  the  cloister. 
Charles  V.  is  not  the  only  one  who  has  dreamed  of 
the  monastic  life.  The  greatest  debauchees  some¬ 
times  have  their  moments  of  mysticism. 

The  daughter  of  an  earthly  king  now  confides  her¬ 
self  to  the  King  of  Heaven.  As  she  is  no  longer 
attached  to  a  perishable  throne,  but  to  the  cross, 
which  is  immortal,  she  finds  herself  more  at  liberty 
in  her  voluntary  captivity  than  she  once  was  in  the 
whirlpool  of  the  world.  She  does  not  regret  the 
crowd  of  courtiers  who  hasten  to  the  Œil-de-Bœuf. 
She  does  not  regret  that  palace  inhabited  by  cares 
and  troubles,  wherein,  as  La  Bruyère  puts  it,  peo¬ 
ple  rise  from  and  lie  down  on  self-interest.  She 
does  not  regret  those  base  flatteries,  a  deafening 
murmur  which  fatigues  ear  and  heart  alike;  those 
protestations  of  zeal  which  are  merely  the  calcula¬ 
tions  of  egotism,  ambition,  and  cupidity,  that  pom¬ 
pous  and  vain  magnificence  which  gives  not  one 
moment  of  true  happiness.  The  rules  of  the  clois¬ 
ter,  though  hard  and  austere,  seem  to  her  less  pain¬ 
ful  than  the  restrictions  of  etiquette.  She  prefers 


MADAME  LOUISE  OF  FRANCE 


113 


one  ardent  aspiration  toward  the  Christ,  one  tear  of 
religious  ecstasy,  to  all  earthly  treasures.  Here 
there  are  no  more  scandals,  no  more  falsities,  no 
more  infamies;  here  is  repose,  here  the  veritable 
love! 

It  is  curious  to  observe  that  the  angel  of  Madame 
Louise  at  the  convent  of  Saint  Denis,  that  is  to  say, 
the  nun  whose  duty  it  was  to  initiate  her  into  the 
practices  and  duties  of  a  Carmelite’s  life,  was  Sis¬ 
ter  Julie,  in  the  world  Julienne  de  MacMahon,  a 
daughter  of  that  illustrious  family  to  which  belonged 
the  Marshal  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  French  gov¬ 
ernment. 

Several  contemporary  publicists  have  spoken  with 
levity  of  certain  writings  connected  with  the  relig¬ 
ious  vocation  of  the  royal  Carmelite,  such  as  the 
Abbé  Proyart’s  work,  that  of  the  Countess  Droho- 
jowska,  and  the  Count  de  Chambord’s  letter  to  the 
Holy  Father.  For  my  part,  I  own  that  such  writ¬ 
ings  seem  to  me  profoundly  affecting.  Is  it  not 
good  to  think  that  not  far  from  the  boudoir  where  a 
Du  Barry  was  degrading  the  royal  authority,  there 
was  a  little  cell  wherein  a  descendant  of  Saint  Louis 
sought  to  avert  the  scourges  of  God  by  prayer?  If 
debauchery  has  its  priestesses  of  vice  and  scandal, 
chastity  must  have  its  virgins  and  heroines.  At 
the  side  of  blasphemies,  abject  even  to  indecency, 
there  must  needs  be  prayers  ardent  to  exaltation. 
To  compensate  for  so  many  outrages  against  the 
divine  majesty,  there  must  be  virtues  whose  sublime 


114 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


and  enthusiastic  character  seems  to  profane  eyes  a 
sort  of  exaggeration,  a  delirium.  To  make  folly  and 
voluptuousness  forgotten  for  a  moment,  there  must 
be  just  persons  who  display  what  Saint  Paul  has 
called  the  folly  of  the  cross.  It  is  because,  in  spite 
of  so  many  debauchees,  there  were  still  elect  souls 
who  preserved  treasures  of  purity  in  the  sanctuary  of 
their  consciences,  that  the  eighteenth  century  was 
not  altogether  ruined,  and  that,  when  the  revolution 
came,  the  women  of  this  societ}r,  which  was  thought 
so  corrupt  and  frivolous,  recalled  the  force  of  the 
primitive  Christians  and  the  sacred  energy  of  the 
martyrs  by  their  greatness  of  soul  and  their  firmness 
on  the  scaffold.  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps  if  Madame 
Louise  of  France  had  not  become  a  Carmelite,  the 
august  woman  whom  we  are  about  to  behold  for  the 
first  time  in  the  palace  of  Versailles  would  have 
had  less  dignity  when  confronted  with  her  persecu¬ 
tors,  less  courage  in  presence  of  her  executioners. 


V 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE 

ON  All  Souls  Day,  November  2,  1755,  a  formi¬ 
dable  earthquake  covered  Lisbon  with  ruins. 
At  Vienna  there  was  born,  on  the  same  day,  a  child 
destined  to  the  most  tragic  fate,  a  princess  who, 
having  like  the  Christ  her  palms  and  her  Golgotha, 
was  to  sum  up  in  her  own  person  all  the  joys  and  all 
the  anguish,  all  the  triumphs  and  all  the  sorrows,  of 
woman. 

This  existence,  doomed  to  catastrophes  which 
surpass  the  most  memorable  examples  of  ancient 
fatality,  began  in  that  calm  which  heralds  the  storm. 
The  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  a  woman  of  both  heart 
and  genius,  was  equally  admirable  as  a  sovereign, 
wife,  and  mother.  As  simple  as  majestic,  she 
needed  not  the  prestige  of  etiquette  to  inspire  ven¬ 
eration.  A  few  days  before  Marie  Antoinette  was 
born,  the  Duke  de  Tarouka  had  laid  a  wager  with 
the  Empress  that  she  would  give  birth  to  a  son. 
When  he  lost  his  bet,  he  caused  a  kneeling  figure 
to  be  modelled  in  porcelain,  which  was  presenting  to 
the  Sovereign  some  tablets  on  which  were  engraven 

115 


116 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


four  verses  in  Italian  from  the  poet  Metastasio, 
which  may  he  thus  translated  :  “  I  have  lost.  The 
august  daughter  has  condemned  me  to  pay.  But  it 
is  true  that  if  she  resembles  you,  all  the  world  will 
be  the  gainer.” 

Maria  Theresa  began  betimes  to  give  Marie  An¬ 
toinette  the  most  serious  instructions.  She  showed 
her  the  shroud  she  had  woven  for  herself  with  her 
own  imperial  hands,  and  taking  her  down  into  the 
vaults  where  their  ancestors  were  sleeping:  “It  is 
to  me,”  she  said,  “that  people  now  address  the  hom¬ 
age  of  which  they  were  once  the  object  ;  I  shall  be 
forgotten  like  them.”  When  they  were  out  driv¬ 
ing,  the  Empress  and  her  husband  gave  the  right  of 
way  to  the  most  humble  vehicles,  and  quietly  took 
their  places  in  the  line.  According  to  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  Goethe,  the  imperial  household  was  only  a 
great  German  citizen’s  family.  Maria  Theresa 
walked  out  with  her  daughters  like  a  private  person  ; 
she  visited  familiarly  at  the  castles  of  the  Counts 
Palfy,  and  those  of  the  Esterhazy  and  de  Kinsky 
princes.  She  gave  an  equally  benevolent  reception 
to  a  noble  or  a  commoner,  a  diplomat  or  an  artist; 
she  made  little  Marie  Antoinette  play  with  little 
Mozart. 

The  young  Archduchess  grew  up  beneath  this 
mild  and  salutary  influence.  Her  father,  the  Em¬ 
peror  Francis,  may  have  felt  for  her  an  even  greater 
tenderness  than  for  his  other  children.  In  1765  he 
went  to  Innspriick,  where  he  was  to  be  present  at  the 


CHILDHOOD  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE  117 


marriage  of  the  Archduke  Leopold  with  a  Spanish 
Infanta.  After  his  journey  had  begun,  he  stopped 
his  carriage  at  a  short  distance  from  Schonbrun  :  “  Go 
back,  and  find  the  Archduchess  Marie  Antoinette,” 
said  he  to  a  member  of  his  suite;  “I  must  see  her 
again.”  The  little  Princess  arrived.  Her  father 
wept  as  he  embraced  her.  He  invoked  God’s  bless¬ 
ing  on  her,  and  even  then  had  to  make  a  violent 
effort  before  he  could  leave  her.  He  was  never  to 
see  her  again.  A  few  days  later  he  died  at  Inns- 
priick,  from  a  sudden  attack  of  apoplexy.  Marie 
Antoinette  remembered  all  her  life  the  last  look  her 
father  had  bent  upon  her.  Was  not  this  gaze,  so 
full  of  tenderness  and  anxiety,  a  presentiment? 
One  day,  Maria  Theresa  questioned  the  thaumatur- 
gist  Gassner  concerning  the  fate  of  the  young  Prin¬ 
cess.  “Will  my  Antoinette  be  happy?”  she  asked 
him.  Gassner  turned  pale  and  was  silent.  Urged 
by  the  Empress  to  reply,  “Madame,”  said  he  sadly, 
“there  are  crosses  for  all  shoulders.” 

But  let  us  dispel  gloomy  images  of  the  future. 
The  most  brilliant  destiny  is  in  preparation  for  the 
little  Archduchess.  It  is  she  who  is  to  unite  the 
Hapsburghs  to  the  Bourbons  ;  she  who  is  to  be  Queen 
of  France.  Maria  Theresa  likes  to  cherish  this  beau¬ 
tiful  dream.  In  1766  an  influential  Parisian  woman, 
whose  salon  had  become  celebrated  throughout 
Europe,  Madame  Geoffrin,  goes  to  Poland  to  visit 
Stanislas  Poniatowski.  She  stops  in  Vienna,  where 
she  meets  a  reception  of  which  she  is  very  proud. 


118 


LAST  YEABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


“I  think  I  must  be  dreaming,”  she  writes  to  M. 
Bautin,  Receiver-General  of  Finances,  June  12, 1766; 
“I  am  as  well  known  here  as  in  the  rue  Saint 
Honoré,  and  for  the  last  fortnight  my  journey  has 
caused  an  incredible  commotion.”  Speaking  of 
Marie  Antoinette  in  the  same  letter,  Madame  Geof- 
frin  adds:  “The  Empress  has  recommended  me  to 
write  to  France  that  I  have  seen  this  little  one, 
and  that  I  find  her  beautiful.” 

Madame  Geoffrin  took  the  Princess  on  her  lap. 
“Here,”  said  she,  “is  a  little  girl  that  I  would  very 
much  like  to  take  with  me.”  —  “  Take  her,  take  her!  ” 
gaily  replied  the  Empress,  who  was  thinking  of 
Versailles  and  the  Dauphin.  From  that  time  Maria 
Theresa  sought  to  form  the  future  Dauphiness  to  the 
likeness  of  the  court  of  France.  Language,  litera¬ 
ture,  novels,  history,  fashions,  theatrical  pieces, 
books,  almanacs,  engravings,  everything  that  sur¬ 
rounded  the  young  Archduchess,  was  French. 

As  M.  Feuillet  de  Conches  has  said  in  the  elo¬ 
quent  preface  to  his  collection,  “  the  wind  of  France 
breathed  through  the  beautiful  fair  tresses  of  Marie 
Antoinette.”  She  danced  with  Noverre,  declaimed 
with  Sainville,  recited  Racine’s  tragedies  and  La  Fon¬ 
taine’s  fables  with  Dufresne.  A  famous  hairdresser, 
Larsonneur,  was  brought  from  Paris,  and  with  him 
milliners  and  dressmakers  for  the  service  of  the 
young  Princess.  Her  true  adornment  was  her  natu¬ 
ral  grace.  As  has  been  said  by  Madame  the  Countess 
Armaillé,  in  a  charming  study  which  she  calls  La 


CHILDHOOD  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE  119 


Mere  et  la  Fille ,  “  certain  female  faces  seem  to  have 
no  brilliancy  except  when  surrounded  by  the  anima¬ 
tion  of  festivities  ;  others  harmonize  with  the  fresh¬ 
ness  of  nature,  the  gentle  poesy  of  solitary  country 
places.  It  was  this  kind  of  beauty  that  Marie  An¬ 
toinette  possessed.  Her  supple  and  slender  figure, 
the  grace  and  lightness  of  her  bearing,  recalled  the 
heroines  of  German  legends.  Undine  was  not  more 
charming  when,  rising  from  the  bosom  of  the  waves, 
she  wandered  for  a  time  among  mortal  beings.  Her 
blue  eyes,  whose  limpid  tint  was  compared  to  that  of 
the  waters  of  the  Danube,  were  both  soft  and  spar¬ 
kling.  Her  mouth,  rosy  and  smiling,  seemed  to  re¬ 
ceive  an  added  grace  from  a  little  dimple  in  her  chin. 
Her  hair,  of  an  ashy  blond,  drawn  back  in  accord¬ 
ance  with  the  fashion  of  the  day,  left  visible  her 
pure,  haughty  forehead  and  her  well-defined  and 
graceful  neck.  Everything  in  her  breathed  distinc¬ 
tion,  kindness,  candor.”  Though  no  longer  a  child, 
she  was  not  yet  a  woman.  She  had  that  blending 
of  intelligence  and  ignorance,  wit  and  simplicity, 
which  has  such  grace  and  charm.  Already  a  shade 
of  melancholy  sometimes  overspread  that  pure  and 
radiant  visage,  which  was  lighted  up  by  so  sweet  a 
smile.  “Poor  women!  ”  has  said  a  young  girl,  Mad¬ 
emoiselle  Rosa  Ferrucci,  whose  touching  story  has 
been  related  by  the  Abbé  Perreyve,  “poor  women! 
we  are  weaker  than  the  leaves  that  the  first  breeze 
tears  off  and  scatters,  and  childhood  is  scarcely  over 
when  our  heart,  which  knows  only  how  to  love  and 


120 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


suffer,  is  rent  by  a  thousand  contrary  thoughts,  joy¬ 
ful  and  sorrowful.” 

Versailles  appeared  to  Marie  Antoinette  in  a  brill¬ 
iant  background.  The  Abbé  de  Vermond,  a  French 
ecclesiastic  who  had  been  her  preceptor  since  1768, 
told  her  wonderful  things  about  this  dazzling  abode 
where  she  was  to  shine  with  so  great  a  splendor. 
But  the  affectionate  soul  of  the  Princess  was  afflicted 
by  the  thought  that  she  must  leave  her  cherished 
mother,  her  beloved  family,  the  honest  Viennese, 
who  were  so  devoted  to  their  sovereigns.  Nowadays, 
when  sovereigns  give  their  daughters  in  marriage, 
they  have  almost  the  certainty  of  seeing  them  again. 
But  it  was  not  so  then.  Separations  were  eternal. 
One  can  understand  what  Maria  Theresa  suffered 
when  she  reflected:  Soon  this  beloved  daughter  of 
whom  I  am  so  proud  will  depart  forever.  Soon  I 
must  give  her  a  last  blessing,  a  last  embrace.  Like 
many  mothers,  the  Empress  was  afflicted  by  an  event 
she  had  most  ardently  desired.  The  union,  so 
favorable  to  the  Austrian  policy,  was  decided  on. 
Marie  Antoinette  was  to  become  the  Dauphiness  of 
France.  The  nearer  the  moment  of  departure  came, 
the  more  the  Empress  was  affected.  She  took  her 
daughter  on  her  lap,  embraced  her,  made  her  sleep 
in  her  own  room.  Clinging  to  the  treasure  she  was 
about  to  lose,  she  would  have  liked  to  arrest  the 
march  of  time.  Marie  Antoinette  was  not  less  sad 
and  anxious.  January  21,  1770,  she  received  the 
nuptial  ring  sent  her  by  the  Dauphin,  and  just 


CHILDHOOD  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE  121 


twenty-three  years  later  to  a  day.  .  .  .  But  no,  we 
will  not  think  yet  of  the  final  catastrophes. 

The  Marquis  de  Durfort  repaired  to  the  palace  on 
April  16,  and  in  the  name  of  the  Most  Christian 
King  officially  demanded  the  Archduchess  for  the 
Dauphin.  On  the  17th,  the  Princess  renounced  her 
rights  to  the  Austrian  succession.  On  the  18th,  the 
fêtes  began  at  Vienna  and  were  prolonged  until  the 
21st,  the  day  set  for  the  departure  of  the  Arch¬ 
duchess.  The  19th,  she  was  married  by  proxy.  The 
Dauphin  was  represented  by  the  Archduke  Max¬ 
imilian.  The  signing  of  the  imperial  register  took 
place  at  the  palace  of  the  Burg.  It  is  said  that 
Marie  Antoinette’s  hand  trembled  when  she  took 
the  pen.  The  Dauphin  having  expressed  a  wish  that 
the  Archduchess  herself  should  signify  her  consent 
to  the  marriage,  Marie  Antoinette  had  written  to 
him  :  “  I  thank  you  for  the  expressions  so  full  of 
benevolence  which  you  employ  towards  me  ;  I  am 
profoundly  touched  and  honored  by  them,  and  I  feel 
that  such  goodness  on  your  part  imposes  obligations 
on  me.  The  examples  and  lessons  of  my  glorious  and 
tender  mother  have  taught  me  to  accomplish  all  my 
duties,  and,  with  the  help  of  God,  I  hope  by  every 
effort  to  render  myself  worthy  of  the  new  destiny 
created  for  me.  You  have  kindly  asked  that  my 
consent  to  your  choice  should  accompany  that  of  the 
Empress-queen  ;  you  say  you  need  to  receive  me 
from  myself  also.  I  may  answer,  since  she  author¬ 
izes  me  to  do  so,  that  I  have  received  my  mother’s 


122 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


orders  with  as  much  pleasure  as  respect.  You  will 
find  in  me  a  faithful  and  devoted  wife,  having  no  other 
thought  than  that  of  putting  into  practice  the  means 
of  pleasing  you  and  meriting  your  attachment.” 

The  city  of  Vienna  is  gay  and  sorrowful  at  once. 
Shouts  of  joy  mingle  with  tears.  A  three-days  re¬ 
treat,  ended  by  the  reception  of  communion,  is 
followed  by  a  visit  to  the  tombs  of  the  emperors. 
The  Archduchess  kneels  down  and  invokes  the 
souls  of  her  ancestors.  At  last  it  is  time  to  depart. 
The  21st  of  April  is  here.  Adieu  patriarchal  resi¬ 
dence  of  the  Burg!  Farewell  ye  shades  of  Schon- 
brun.  Adieu  blue,  limpid  lakes  of  Laxenbourg  ! 
Adieu  good  Viennese  who  weep  for  the  young  exile  ! 
Ah!  whether  she  be  a  peasant  or  an  empress,  the 
mother  who  for  the  last  time  beholds  her  daughter’s 
face  and  hears  her  voice,  follows  her  with  her  eyes 
and  confides  her  to  Providence;  then,  seeking  her, 
but  finding  her  no  more,  she  returns  alone  to  her 
chamber,  closes  the  door  and  falls  upon  her  knees  ; 
the  mother  who  has  felt  the  anguish  of  that  heart¬ 
rending  torture,  separation,  will  comprehend  what 
passed  in  the  heart  of  Maria  Theresa.  This  depart¬ 
ure  of  Marie  Antoinette  reminds  me  of  a  once  popu¬ 
lar  but  now  forgotten  chanson,  the  distant  echo  of 
which  affects  me  at  this  moment,  doubtless  because 
my  mother  sang  it  to  me  when  I  was  a  child  :  — 

“  Ici  commence  ton  voyage. 

Si  tu  n’allais  pas  revenir  !... 

Ta  pauvre  mère  est  sans  courage 
Pour  te  quitter,  pour  te  bénir. 


CHILDHOOD  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE  123 


Travaille  bien,  fais  ta  prière. 

La  prière  donne  du  cœur, 

Et  quelquefois  pense  à  ta  mère, 

Cela  te  portera  bonheur. 

Adieu,  ma  fille,  adieu  ! 

A  la  grâce  de  Dieu  !... 

“  Elle  s’en  va,  douce  exilée, 

Gagner  son  pain  sous  d’autres  cieux  ; 
Longtemps  encor,  dans  la  vallée, 

Sa  mère  la  suivit  des  yeux, 

Puis,  lorsque  sa  douleur  amère 
N’eut  plus  sa  fille  pour  témoin, 

Elle  pleura,  la  pauvre  mère, 

L’enfant  qui  lui  disait  de  loin  : 
Adieu,  ma  mère,  adieu! 

A  la  grâce  de  Dieu.” 1 


1  Here  thy  journey  begins. 

If  thou  wert  never  to  return  !... 

Thy  poor  mother  has  no  courage 
To  leave  thee,  to  bless  thee. 

Labor  well,  say  thy  prayer  ; 

Prayer  gives  courage  ; 

And  think  sometimes  of  thy  mother, 

That  will  bring  thee  happiness. 

Adieu,  my  child,  adieu  ! 

To  God’s  grace  I  commend  thee  !... 

She  goes,  the  gentle  exile, 

To  earn  her  bread  ’neath  other  skies  ; 

A  long  time  yet,  in  the  valley, 

The  poor  mother  follows  her  with  her  eyes  ; 
Then,  when  her  bitter  sorrow 
Is  no  longer  witnessed  by  her  child, 

She  weeps,  poor  mother, 

For  the  child  who  says  from  afar  : 

Adieu,  mother,  adieu  ! 

To  God’s  grace  I  commend  thee  !... 


124 


LAST  YE  AB  S  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Weber  says  in  liis  Memoirs:  “One  cannot  easily 
shake  off  the  superstition  of  presentiments,  when  one 
has  seen  the  farewells  of  Marie  Antoinette  to  her 
family,  her  servants,  and  her  country.  Men  and 
women  yielded  to  the  same  expressions  of  grief.  No 
one  returned  home  until  after  losing  sight  of  the  last 
courier  who  followed  her,  and  then  only  to  lament  in 
the  privacy  of  the  family  a  common  loss.”  The  die 
was  cast  !  Departing  never  to  return,  the  young 
girl  of  fourteen  was  urged  by  fatality  toward  the 
abyss. 


VI 


marie  Antoinette’s  arrival  in  prance 

AT  the  moment  when  Maria  Theresa  pressed 
Marie  Antoinette  to  her  heart  for  the  last 
time,  she  gave  her  a  precious  paper  containing  the 
wisest  counsels.  This  masterpiece  of  maternal  solici¬ 
tude,  written  by  the  Empress’s  own  hand,  was  en¬ 
titled:  A  Rule  to  be  read  Every  Month.  It  began 
thus:  “This  21st  of  April,  the  day  of  departure. — 
On  awaking,  you  will  kneel  down  and  say  your 
morning  prayers  as  soon  as  you  arise,  and  also  a 
short  spiritual  reading,  even  if  it  were  only  for  half 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  before  occupying  yourself  with 
anything  else  and  without  having  spoken  to  any  per¬ 
son.  All  depends  on  the  good  beginning  of  the  day 
and  the  intention  with  which  one  commences  it, 
which  can  render  even  indifferent  actions  good  and 
meritorious.”  Maria  Theresa  then  went  on  into  all 
the  details  of  a  pious  life.  “  I  do  not  know,”  she 
said,  “  whether  it  is  the  custom  in  France  to  ring  the 
Angélus  ;  but  collect  your  thoughts  at  that  hour,  if 
not  in  public,  at  least  inwardly.  ...  If  your  con¬ 
fessor  approves,  you  will  approach  the  Sacraments 

125 


126 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


every  six  weeks,  also  on  the  great  feasts,  and  espe¬ 
cially  those  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  on  those  days,  or 
the  vigil  of  them,  do  not  forget  the  special  devotion 
of  your  family  toward  the  Blessed  Virgin,  whose  par¬ 
ticular  protection  it-has  experienced  on  all  occasions. 
Read  no  book,  however  unimportant,  without  having 
first  asked  the  approval  of  your  confessor.  This  is  a 
point  especially  necessary  in  France,  where  books  full 
of  entertainment  and  erudition  are  constantly  appear¬ 
ing,  but  among  them  are  some  which,  under  this  veil 
of  respectability,  are  pernicious  to  religion  and  moral¬ 
ity.  I  conjure  you  then,  my  daughter,  not  to  read 
any  book,  not  even  a  brochure,  without  the  advice  of 
your  confessor  ;  I  require  of  you,  my  dear  daughter, 
this  most  real  mark  of  your  affection  and  obedience 
to  the  counsels  of  a  good  mother  who  has  no  end  in 
view  but  your  salvation  and  your  happiness.” 

The  monthly  regulation  terminated  with  these  sim¬ 
ple  and  affecting  words  :  “  Never  forget  the  anniver¬ 
sary  of  your  late  father’s  death,  nor  mine  at  the  same 
time  ;  meanwhile,  you  can  take  that  of  my  birthday 
to  pray  for  me.” 

The  young  betrothed  was  on  her  way  to  France. 
The  heavens  were  illuminated  by  the  joyous  sunshine 
of  spring.  “  All  nature  was  smiling  at  this  new 
Iphigenia  who  was  advancing  with  the  same  confi¬ 
dence  to  marriage  and  the  sword.  God  of  mercy  ! 
Why  didst  Thou  not  arrest  that  royal  progress,  those 
triumphs  of  grandeur,  youth,  and  beauty  !  Why 
didst  Thou  not  withdraw  this  august  child  from  the 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE’S  ARRIVAL  IN  FRANCE  127 


fatal  destiny  that  awaited  her  !  Ah  !  how  sweet  her 
death  would  have  been  in  comparison  to  that  re¬ 
served  for  her  at  the  hands  of  execrable  tormentors  ! 
Austria  would  have  received  the  mortal  remains  of 
the  daughter  of  the  Hapsburghs  with  pious  emotion. 
The  prayers  of  a  Christian  mother  would  have  borne 
her  virginal  soul  to  the  eternal  dwellings,  and  France, 
cast  down  by  a  blow  so  unexpected,  would  also  have 
lamented  this  young  Princess,  too  quickly  ravished 
from  its  hopes.”  1 

Marie  Antoinette  reached  Schutteren,  the  last  Ger¬ 
man  town  before  Kehl  and  the  Rhine  bridge,  May  6, 
1770.  She  saw  France  for  the  first  time.  She  heard 
the  sound  of  the  Rhine  waters,  those  poetic,  majestic 
waters,  so  often,  alas,  troubled  and  tinged  with  blood, 
those  waters  which  now  wash  two  German  shores, 
but  which  then  flowed  beside  a  French  one.  On  the 
large  island  of  the  Rhine  a  pavilion  had  been  erected, 
which  was  called  the  pavilion  of  the  Exchange.  It 
comprised  a  large  hall  with  a  room  on  either  side; 
one  of  these  was  intended  for  the  lords  and  ladies 
of  the  court  of  Vienna  who  had  been  charged  to 
accompany  the  Princess  to  the  threshold  of  her  new 
country;  the  other  for  her  French  suite,  her  lady  of 
honor,  the  Countess  de  Noailles,  her  lady  of  the  bed¬ 
chamber,  the  Duchess  de  Cossé,  her  four  ladies  of  the 
palace,  the  Count  de  Saulx-Tavannes,  her  chevalier 


1  Madame  the  Countess  d’Annaillé,  La  Mère  et  la  Fille,  (Maria 
Theresa  and  Marie  Antoinette). 


128 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


of  honor,  the  Count  de  Tessé,  her  first  equerry,  the 
Bishop  of  Chartres,  her  first  chaplain,  her  officers, 
equerries,  and  body-guards.  Here  took  place  the 
symbolical  ceremony  of  the  delivery.  The  pavilion 
was  hung  with  tapestries.  The  choice  of  these  was 
unfortunate.  “It  was  nothing  less,”  said  Goethe, 
who  was  then  a  student  of  the  University  of  Stras- 
burg,  “than  the  history  of  Jason,  Medea,  and  Creusa. 
On  the  left  side  of  the  tin-one  one  saw  the  unfortu¬ 
nate  affianced  a  prey  to  the  torments  of  the  most  cruel 
death.  On  the  right,  the  furious  Jason  was  deplor¬ 
ing  the  loss  of  his  children,  lying  dead  at  his  feet, 
while  the  Fury  who  had  slain  them  was  taking  her 
flight  through  the  air  on  her  chariot  drawn  by  drag¬ 
ons.”  On  beholding  these  preparations,  the  future 
author  of  Faust  exclaimed:  “What!  Is  it  possible 
that  at  the  first  step  a  young  princess  takes  in  her 
new  kingdom,  such  an  example  of  the  most  horrible 
marriage  possible  could  be  placed  so  inconsiderately 
before  her  eyes  ?  Was  there  no  one  among  the  archi¬ 
tects  and  decorators  of  France  able  to  comprehend 
that  a  picture  is  a  representation,  that  it  moves  the 
senses  and  the  soul,  that  it  excites  presentiments  ?  ” 
The  weather  was  stormy  and  dark  as  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette  entered  the  pavilion  of  the  Exchange.  A 
heavy  cloud  which  veiled  the  horizon  on  the  Stras- 
burg  side  was  slowly  moving  toward  the  great  island 
of  the  Rhine.  The  three  commissioners  appointed 
by  the  King  were  waiting  in  the  central  hall. 
Toward  noon  the  door  of  the  Austrian  salon  was 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE'S  ARRIVAL  IN  FRANCE  129 


opened,  and  the  Dauphiness  appeared.  She  walked 
to  the  platform  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
there  listened  to  the  reading  of  the  full  powers 
and  the  acts  of  delivery.  When  this  formality  was 
ended,  the  members  of  the  Austrian  suite  passed 
for  the  last  time  in  front  of  the  former  Arch¬ 
duchess,  kissed  lier  hand,  and  then  returned  to  the 
Austrian  salon,  the  door  of  which  was  closed  again. 
The  Dauphiness  changed  her  entire  apparel.  “  When 
her  dress  had  been  completely  renewed,  even  to  her 
chemise  and  stockings,  so  that  she  should  retain 
nothing  from  a  foreign  court  (an  etiquette  always 
observed  in  this  circumstance),  the  doors  were  re¬ 
opened,  the  young  Princess  came  forward,  looking 
about  for  the  Countess  de  Noailles,  and  then  threw 
herself  into  her  arms,  asking  her,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  and  a  candor  that  came  from  her  heart,  to  direct 
and  counsel  her,  and  to  be  in  all  things  her  guide 
and  support.  It  was  impossible  to  refrain  from  ad¬ 
miring  her  aerial  deportment;  a  single  smile  was 
enough  to  attract  one,  and  in  this  enchanting  being 
in  whom  the  splendor  of  French  gaiety  shone  forth,  an 
indescribable  but  august  serenity,  perhaps,  also,  the 
somewhat  proud  attitude  of  her  head  and  shoulders, 
betrayed  the  daughter  of  the  Cæsars.”1  The  cere¬ 
mony  of  the  exchange  was  terminated.  On  reaching 
the  French  side  of  the  Rhine,  the  Dauphiness  got 
into  the  King’s  carriage,  and  started  for  Stras  burg. 


1  Memoirs  of  Madame  Campan. 


130 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Then  the  storm  broke  which  had  been  threatening 
for  some  hours.  The  pavilion  of  the  Exchange  was 
submerged  under  a  driving  rain.  The  shouting  of 
the  crowd  mingled  with  the  claps  of  thunder. 

The  next  day,  May  8,  Marie  Antoinette  repaired 
to  the  Strasburg  cathedral.  A  young  prelate, 
Prince  Louis  de  Rohan,  stood  in  front  of  the  door, 
in  a  chasuble  of  cloth  of  gold,  the  cross  in  his  hand, 
the  mitre  on  his  head.  “Madame,”  said  he,  “the 
two  nations  reunited  in  this  temple  are  eager  to 
render  eternal  thanksgivings  to  the  God  of  empires, 
who,  by  august  and  longed-for  ties,  is  about  to  set 
the  seal  to  their  common  felicity,  and  to  cement  an 
alliance  the  aim  of  which  has  been  to  protect  religion 
and  bring  about  the  reign  of  peace.  You  see  the  joy 
of  Alsace  breaking  forth;  France  awaits  you  to  crown 
its  wishes.  In  the  movements  of  joy  about  to  mani¬ 
fest  themselves,  recognize,  Madame,  the  same  senti¬ 
ment  which  caused  tears  to  flow  in  Vienna,  and 
which  leaves  the  keenest  and  most  profound  regrets 
in  the  hearts  of  those  from  whom  you  are  separated. 
Thus  it  is  that  the  Archduchess  Antoinette  is  already 
known  even  where  she  has  not  yet  been  seen  ;  often 
this  is  merely  the  advantage  of  birth;  for  you, 
Madame,  it  is  the  right  of  your  virtues  and  your 
graces;  it  is,  above  all,  the  reputation  of  those  nat¬ 
ural  and  beneficent  qualities  which  the  cares  of 
an  ever-memorable  mother  have  perfected  in  you. 
Among  us  you  will  be  the  living  image  of  this  cher¬ 
ished  Empress,  who  has  long  been  the  admiration  of 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE'S  ARRIVAL  IN  FRANCE  131 


Europe,  as  she  will  be  that  of  posterity.  It  is  the 
soul  of  Maria  Theresa  which  is  about  to  unite  itself 
to  the  soul  of  the  Bourbons.  A  new  age  of  gold 
should  spring  from  so  beautiful  a  union,  and  our 
nephews,  under  the  happy  empire  of  Antoinette  and 
Louis  Augustus,  will  see  that  welfare  perpetuated 
which  we  are  enjoying  under  the  reign  of  Louis  the 
Well-Beloved.”  The  man  who  employed  this  lan¬ 
guage  was  the  future  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  the  sorry 
hero  of  the  affair  of  the  necklace. 

Paris,  Versailles,  all  France,  was  in  commotion. 
Nothing  was  talked  of  but  the  arrival  of  the  Dau- 
phiness.  Upholsterers,  sent  from  city  to  city,  pre¬ 
pared  apartments  for  her.  Sixty  perfectly  new  trav¬ 
elling-carriages  awaited  her  at  Strasburg.  At  Paris, 
people  were  going  to  the  court  dressmakers  to  admire 
the  robes  intended  for  the  forthcoming  festivities. 
A  piece  of  fireworks  was  talked  of,  the  bouquet  of 
which,  composed  of  thirty  thousand  rockets,  was  said 
to  have  cost  four  thousand  louis  (nearly  fifty  thousand 
francs  of  the  present  money). 

The  Dauphiness  continued  her  route.  Along  her 
way  the  towns  were  joyful  and  the  country  places 
in  festal  array.  The  ground  was  covered  with  flow¬ 
ers.  Young  girls,  gowned  in  white,  offered  bou¬ 
quets  to  Marie  Antoinette.  The  bells  were  ringing 
merrily.  From  every  side  resounded  cries  of  “Long 
live  the  Dauphiness!  Long  live  the  Dauphin!” 
The  road  was  obstructed  by  the  crowd  of  spectators; 
the  curtains  of  the  Princess’s  carriage  were  drawn 


132 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


up,  and  everybody  could  contemplate  at  leisure  her 
beauty,  her  enchanting  smile,  her  sweet  expression. 
Some  young  peasants  said  to  each  other  “  How  pretty 
our  Dauphiness  is  !  ”  A  lady  who  was  in  the  car¬ 
riage  called  her  attention  to  this  flattering  speech. 
“Madame,”  replied  the  Dauphiness,  “the  French 
look  at  me  with  indulgent  eyes.” 

To  all  this  succeeded  the  official  harangues,  a 
series  of  dithyrambs  in  honor  of  the  young  Princess. 
One  orator  wished  to  speak  to  her  in  German. 
“Monsieur,”  said  she,  “after  to-day  I  understand  no 
language  but  French.  ”  At  Nancy  she  piously  visited 
the  tombs  of  her  ancestors,  the  Princes  of  Lorraine. 
At  Rheims,  thinking  of  the  future  ceremony  of  the 
coronation,  she  said:  “This  is  a  city  which  I  hope 
not  to  see  again  for  a  long  time.”  Some  leagues 
from  Compiègne  she  met  the  Duke  de  Choiseul, 
whom  she  received  as  a  friend  of  her  family.  This 
was  the  14th  of  May,  1770.  Several  minutes  later, 
the  King  and  the  Dauphin,  followed  by  a  numerous 
escort,  made  their  appearance  at  the  cross-roads  of  the 
Pont-du-Berne,  in  the  forest  of  Compiègne.  Marie 
Antoinette  at  once  alighted,  and  threw  herself  on 
the  grass,  at  the  feet  of  Louis  XV.,  who  hastened  to 
raise  and  embrace  her. 

The  Dauphin,  more  abashed  than  she  was,  scarcely 
dared  to  look  at  her,  and,  according  to  the  official 
expression,  “saluted  her  on  the  cheek.” 

The  next  day  they  left  Compiègne  for  Versailles. 
When  passing  through  Saint  Denis,  Marie  Antoi- 


MAE  IE  ANTOINETTE'S  ABEIVAL  IN  FRANCE  133 


nette  expressed  a  wish  to  see  her  aunt,  Madame 
Louise,  the  Carmelite  novice.  She  entered  the 
convent,  with  the  King,  at  six  o’clock  in  the  even¬ 
ing,  May  15th.  A  letter  of  the  Carmelite,  which  is 
among  the  manuscripts  of  the  National  Library, 
says,  concerning  this  visit:  “The  King  asked  to 
have  the  nuns  brought  in  that  I  might  show  them 
Madame  the  Dauphiness.  She  is,  my  reverend 
mother,  a  perfect  princess  as  far  as  her  face,  her 
figure,  and  her  manners  are  concerned,  and,  which 
is  infinitely  more  precious,  they  say  she  is  eminently 
pious.  Her  physiognomy  has  an  air  of  blended 
grandeur,  modesty,  and  sweetness.  The  King, 
Mesdames,  and  above  all  Monseigneur  the  Dauphin, 
appear  enchanted  with  her.  They  vie  with  each 
other  in  saying:  ‘She  is  incomparable.’  ” 

There  were  immense  crowds  all  along  their  route. 
The  air  resounded  with  enthusiastic  acclamations. 
Marie  Antoinette  had  the  tact  to  attribute  the  honor 
of  this  to  Louis  XV.  “The  French,”  said  she, 
“never  see  enough  of  their  King;  they  could  not 
treat  me  more  kindly  than  by  proving  that  they  know 
how  to  love  him  whom  I  am  already  accustomed  to 
regard  as  a  second  father.”  Marie  Antoinette  slept 
at  the  chateau  of  La  Muette  the  night  of  May  15th, 
and  it  was  there  that  the  King  presented  her,  among 
other  jewels,  Avith  the  famous  pearl  necklace, 
threaded  on  a  single  string,  which  was  brought  to 
France  by  Anne  of  Austria,  and  destined  by  her  for 
the  queens  and  dauphinesses.  The  next  day,  Marie 


134 


idST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Antoinette  arrived  at  Versailles;  she  did  not  behold 
unmoved  that  celebrated  palace  which  then  played 
so  great  a  part  in  France  and  Europe,  and  of  which 
she  had  heard  so  much.  She  passed  through  the 
castle  gate  at  ten  in  the  morning,  and  entered  the 
marble  court,  where  she  was  received  by  the  King 
and  the  Dauphin. 


VII 


THE  MAKRIAGE  FESTIVITIES  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE 
E  have  just  seen  the  Dauphiness  arriving  at 


V  V  the  château  of  Versailles.  It  is  ten  o’clock 
on  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  May,  1770.  In  a 
little  while  the  nuptial  benediction  will  be  given  to 
the  spouses.  Every  glance  is  fixed  on  the  young 
Princess  with  respectful  curiosity.  She  is  in  morn¬ 
ing  dress,  and  her  hair  is  carelessly  arranged.  Pres¬ 
ently  she  will  reappear  in  the  dazzling  wedding 
toilette.  This  is  her  portrait  as  drawn  by  Bachau- 
mont:  “She  is  very  well  made,  symmetrical  in  all 
her  members.  Her  hair  is  a  beautiful  blonde  ;  one 
fancies  it  will  some  day  be  a  pale  chestnut.  Her 
forehead  is  fine;  her  face,  a  somewhat  long,  but  a 
graceful,  oval;  her  eyebrows  as  well  marked  as  a 
blonde’s  can  be.  Her  eyes  are  blue  without  being 
dull,  and  sparkle  with  a  vivacity  full  of  intelligence. 
Her  nose  is  aquiline,  rather  thin  at  the  tip.  Her 
mouth  is  small  ;  her  lips  are  thick,  especially  the 
under  one,  which  one  knows  to  be  the  Austrian  lip. 
Her  skin  is  of  dazzling  whiteness,  and  she  has  a 
natural  color  which  needs  no  rouge.  Her  bearing 


135 


136 


LAST  YEABS  OF  LOUIS  XY. 


is  that  of  an  archduchess,  but  her  dignity  is  tempered 
by  sweetness.  It  is  difficult  to  see  this  Princess 
without  feeling  a  mingled  respect  and  tenderness.” 

At  one  o’clock  the  Daupliiness,  in  full  dress,  and 
followed  by  a  numerous  cortège,  goes  to  the  chapel 
with  the  Dauphin.  The  officiating  priest  is  the 
Archbishop  of  Rheims,  Monseigneur  de  La  Roche- 
Aymon,  Grand  Almoner  of  France.  The  pair  ad¬ 
vance  to  the  altar  and  kneel  down.  The  chapel  is 
decked  with  flowers  and  garlands,  and  glitters  with 
a  thousand  lights.  The  Archbishop  blesses  thirteen 
pieces  of  gold  and.  a  gold  ring.  These  he  presents  to 
the  Dauphin,  who  puts  the  ring  on  the  fourth  finger 
of  the  left  hand  of  the  Dauphiness,  and  afterwards 
gives  her  the  thirteen  gold  pieces.  After  the  “  Our 
Father  ”  has  been  said,  the  canopy  of  silver  brocade 
is  held  over  them  by  the  Bishop  of  Senlis  on  the 
side  of  the  Prince,  and  the  Bishop  of  Chartres  on 
that  of  the  Princess.  The  spouses,  profoundly  moved, 
plight  each  other  an  affection  which  death  itself  will 
not  have  the  power  to  interrupt. 

At  this  moment  all  Paris  is  at  Versailles.  The 
people  have  been  coming  on  foot  since  daybreak. 
The  citizens  have  been  arriving,  some  on  hired 
horses,  some  in  cabs,  some  in  carriages  from  livery 
stables.  The  park  is  thronged  by  an  immense 
crowd.  Alas  !  The  sad  omens  are  about  to  be  re¬ 
newed.  At  three  in  the  afternoon  the  sky  is  over¬ 
cast  by  clouds.  Rain  pours  down  in  torrents.  The 
thunder  rumbles.  Every  one  seeks  shelter.  There 


MARRIAGE  FESTIVITIES 


137 


is  a  general  panic.  In  the  evening  the  weather  is  so 
bad  that  the  fireworks  cannot  be  set  off.  The  illumi¬ 
nations  are  drowned  in  rain  ;  the  streets  and  squares 
of  Versailles  are  like  a  desert. 

But  if  the  approaches  to  the  chateau  are  dismal 
in  the  evening,  it  is  dazzling  within.  All  the  splen¬ 
dors  of  aristocracy,  riches,  luxury,  and  the  fine  arts 
are  accumulated  there.  There  is  a  game  of  lans¬ 
quenet  in  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors,  and  a  supper  is 
served  au  grand  couvert  in  the  hall  known  as  the 
Queen’s  Antechamber  (No.  117  of  M.  Soulié’s 
Notice  du  Musée~).  The  next  day,  May  17,  the  new 
theatre,  begun  in  1753,  and  designed  by  the  archi¬ 
tect  Gabriel,  is  opened  for  the  first  time.  (This  is 
now  the  Senate  Chamber  at  Versailles.)  The  piece 
presented  is  the  opera  of  Persée,  words  by  Quinault, 
music  by  Lulli.  May  19,  a  grand  dress  ball,  opened 
by  the  Dauphin  and  the  Dauphiness,  is  given  in  this 
new  play-house. 

That  morning,  Madame  Du  Deffand  had  written 
to  Horace  Walpole:  “There  have  been  bickerings 
without  number  ;  the  minuet  which  is  to  be  given 
this  evening  by  Mademoiselle  de  Lorraine,  has  vexed 
a  great  many  people.”  The  minuet,  in  fact,  is  a 
great  affair,  and  the  whole  court  is  in  commotion 
over  it.  What  is  it  all  about?  Louis  XV.,  in  order 
to  be  agreeable  to  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  has 
decided  that  Mademoiselle  de  Lorraine,  on  account 
of  her  relationship  to  the  Dauphiness,  shall  dance  a 
minuet  immediately  after  the  princes  and  princesses 
of  the  royal  family.  People  have  taken  the  notion 


138 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


this  displays  a  tendency  to  establish  for  the  house  of 
Lorraine  an  intermediate  rank  between  the  princes 
of  the  blood  and  the  great  nobles.  Thereupon  en¬ 
sues  a  flood  of  jealousy  and  anger.  The  dukes  unite 
to  convoke  an  assembly  of  the  principal  members 
of  the  nobility  at  the  house  of  the  Bishop  of  Noyon, 
a  brother  of  Marshal  de  Broglie.  There  they  draw 
up  a  grand  memorial  to  the  King,  in  which  they 
say  :  “  Sire,  the  great  lords  and  nobles  of  the  realm  lay 
with  confidence  at  the  foot  of  the  throne  the  just 
alarms  awakened  in  them  by  the  widespread  rumors 
that  Your  Majesty  has  been  solicited  to  grant  the 
house  of  Lorraine  a  rank  immediately  after  the 
princes  of  the  blood,  and  that  you  have  ordered  that 
at  the  dress  ball  of  Monsieur  the  Dauphin’s  marriage, 
Mademoiselle  de  Lorraine  shall  dance  before  all  the 
ladies  of  the  court.  .  .  .  They  believe,  Sire,  that 
they  would  be  lacking  in  what  is  due  to  their  birth 
if  they  did  not  manifest  to  you  how  greatly  a  dis¬ 
tinction  as  humiliating  to  them  as  it  is  novel,  would 
add  to  the  grief  of  losing  the  advantage  they  have 
always  had  of  not  being  separated  from  Your  Maj¬ 
esty  and  the  royal  family  by  any  intermediate  rank. 
In  all  states,  the  grandeur  of  the  highest  ranks  de¬ 
notes  that  of  the  nations,  and  the  grandeur  of  the 
nations  makes  that  of  the  kings.  It  would  be  to 
doubt  the  pre-eminence  of  France  in  Europe,  to 
doubt  the  pre-eminence  of  those  who,  in  the  words  of 
one  of  your  ancestors,  make  a  part  of  its  honor  and 
the  essential  honor  of  its  kings.”  All  that  for  a 
minuet  ! 


MARRIAGE  FESTIVITIES 


139 


The  public  is  rather  amused  by  the  presentation  of 
this  request  by  a  bishop.  On  seeing  certain  new 
names  among  the  old  ones  signed  to  it,  some  one 
remarks  that  the  descendants  of  such  or  such  persons 
would  some  day  say  with  pride  :  “  One  of  our  ances¬ 
tors  signed  the  famous  request  of  the  minuet,  at  the 
marriage  of  the  grandson  of  Louis  XV.  ;  so  our 
name  was  then  reckoned  among  the  most  illustrious 
of  the  monachy.”  The  request  was  parodied  as  fol¬ 
lows  :  — 

“  Sire,  les  grands  de  vos  États 
Verront  avec  beaucoup  de  peine 
Une  princesse  de  Lorraine 
Sur  eux  au  bal  prendre  le  pas. 

Si  Votre  Majesté  projette 
De  les  flétrir  d’un  tel  affront, 

Us  quitteront  la  cadenette, 

Et  laisseront  là  les  violons. 

Avisez-y,  la  ligue  est  faite. 

Signe  :  l’Evêque  de  Noyon, 

La  Veaupalière,  Beaufremont, 

Clermont,  Laval  et  De  Villette.” 1 


1  Sire,  the  great  of  your  state 
Behold  with  much  pain 
A  princess  of  Lorraine 
Preferred  before  them  at  the  ball. 
If  Your  Highness  project 
This  affront  to  inflict, 

They  will  cut  off  their  queues, 
And  all  dancing  refuse. 

Take  heed  :  all  is  said, 

The  league  has  been  made. 

Signed  :  the  Bishop  of  Noyon, 

La  Veaupalière,  Beaufremont, 
Clermont,  Laval  and  De  Villette. 


140 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


This  is  a  new  Fronde,  a  veritable  insurrection. 
Louis  XV.  replies  to  the  request  by  the  following 
note  :  “  The  ambassador  of  the  Emperor  and  the 
Empress-queen  has  asked  me,  on  the  part  of  his 
masters,  to  show  some  mark  of  distinction  to  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  Lorraine  on  the  present  occasion  of  the 
marriage  of  my  grandson  with  the  Archduchess 
Marie  Antoinette.  The  dance  at  the  ball  being  the 
only  thing  which  could  entail  no  consequences,  since 
the  choice  of  dancers  depends  solely  on  my  will, 
without  distinction  of  place,  rank,  or  dignities,  ex¬ 
cepting  the  princes  and  princess  of  my  rank,  who 
cannot  be  compared  or  put  in  rank  with  any  other 
Frenchmen  ;  and  being  unwilling,  moreover,  to  in¬ 
novate  in  anywise  on  what  is  practised  at  my  court, 
I  rely  upon  it  that  the  great  and  the  nobles  of  my 
realm,  seeing  the  fidelity,  submission,  attachment, 
and  even  friendship  which  they  have  always  shown 
to  me  and  my  predecessors,  will  never  be  the  occa¬ 
sion  of  anything  that  might  displease  me,  especially 
in  this  occurrence,  wherein  I  desire  to  prove  my  grati¬ 
tude  to  the  Empress  for  the  present  she  has  made 
me,  which  I  hope,  as  you  do,  will  cause  the  happi¬ 
ness  of  the  remainder  of  my  days.”  Notwithstand¬ 
ing  this,  Louis  XV.  is  obliged  to  go  to  the  length  of 
a  threat.  The  ball  at  last  takes  place.  Mademoiselle 
de  Lorraine  dances  the  minuet  which  provoked  so 
many  quarrels.  Fireworks  are  set  off  the  same 
evening  on  the  terrace  of  the  chateau,  and  are  suc¬ 
ceeded  by  an  illumination  of  the  park,  terminating, 


MARRIAGE  FESTIVITIES 


141 


at  the  extremity  of  the  grand  canal,  in  a  splendid 
decoration  representing  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  The 
canal  is  covered  with  gaily  decked  barks.  The  great 
fountains  are  playing  amidst  the  illuminations.  The 
equestrian  statue  of  the  King  is  resplendent.  The 
principal  decoration  represents  the  Temple  of  Hy¬ 
men.  Surrounded  by  a  sort  of  parapet  at  the  four 
corners  of  which  are  dolphins  who  are  vomiting 
flame  from  their  yawning  mouths,  this  multicolored 
temple  rests  against  the  statue  of  Louis  XV.  Near 
the  statue,  on  the  Seine  side,  rises  the  bastion  from 
which  the  rockets  stream  upward  in  glittering 
sheaves.  Acclamations  resound.  The  crowd  utter 
shouts  of  joy.  All  of  a  sudden  a  misdirected  rocket 
falls  on  the  yew  trees  and  sets  them  afire.  At  the 
same  time,  the  column  of  sightseers  who  are  making 
their  way  to  the  boulevards  though  the  rue  Royale 
meets  another  column  which  is  going  toward  Place 
Louis  XV.  They  come  into  collision.  The  arrival 
of  the  firemen  adds  to  the  confusion.  The  moats  of 
the  Tuileries  and  the  gardens  of  the  place  are  so  many 
precipices  over  which  a  quantity  of  victims  fall. 
The  cries  of  the  wounded  increase  the  terror.  There 
is  nothing  but  dead  and  dying  people.  All  is  horror 
and  desolation  on  this  accursed  place,  destined,  be¬ 
fore  the  end  of  the  century,  to  be  the  scene  of  so 
many  crimes. 

At  this  moment  a  carriage,  coming  from  the  Cours- 
la-Reine,  arrives  at  the  Champs-Elysées.  In  this  car¬ 
riage  is  a  young  woman,  still  more  adorned  by  the 


142 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


splendor  of  lier  grace  and  beauty  than  by  the  glitter 
of  the  precious  stones  shining  in  her  hair  and  on  her 
dress.  It  is  the  Dauphiness,  entering  Paris  for  the 
first  time,  —  the  Dauphiness,  who  wishes  to  see  the 
illuminations  of  this  place,  marked  by  fatality.  She 
is  reflecting  that  to-day  there  has  been  no  tempest,  that 
the  sky  is  clear  this  time,  and  that  all  hearts  are  glad. 
She  herself  rejoices  to  see  this  city  of  Paris,  so  beau¬ 
tiful  and  famous.  But  what  is  that  she  hears  ?  Are 
those  cries  of  joy  or  of  terror?  The  carriage  stops. 
The  Dauphiness  asks  what  is  going  on.  She  is  an¬ 
swered  that  blood  is  flowing  on  Place  Louis  XV.  ; 
that  the  number  of  the  dead,  though  unknown  as 
yet,  is  considerable,  and  that  it  will  not  do  to  go  any 
further  in  a  city  so  grievously  stricken.  The  carriage 
retraces  its  road.  Marie  Antoinette  returns  discon¬ 
solate  to  Versailles,  while  the  dead  are  being  taken 
to  the  cemetery  of  the  Madeleine,  where,  some  years 
later,  other  victims  will  be  deposited.  Thus  termi¬ 
nated  the  nuptial  festivities  of  the  martyr  King  and 
Queen.  Such  is  the  prologue  to  the  tragedy  which 
will  wring  tears  from  future  eyes  ;  such  are  the  first 
rumblings  of  the  most  terrible  of  tempests. 


VIII 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY  IN  1770 
HE  painful  impression  produced  by  the  catas- 


JL  trophe  on  Place  Louis  XV.  was  soon  dissipated. 
It  was  not  long  before  it  ceased  to  be  spoken  of 
except  for  the  sake  of  praising  the  good  feeling  of 
the  youthful  pair,  who  had  devoted  their  entire  in¬ 
come  for  a  year  to  the  succor  of  the  families  stricken 
by  the  disaster.  At  this  time,  Marie  Antoinette 
excited  an  almost  frenzied  admiration.  France  was 
literally  raving  over  this  fifteen-year-old  Dauphiness, 
in  whose  honor  the  formulas  of  laudation  and  enthu¬ 
siasm  were  exhausted.  People  compared  her  to  a 
consoling  angel,  a  torch  of  hope,  a  morning  star. 
There  was  a  veritable  lyrism,  an  interminable  series 
of  mythological  comparisons,  with  the  Venus  de’ 
Medici,  the  Atalanta  of  Marly,  Flora,  goddess  of 
gardens,  Hebe,  radiant  image  of  youth,  Juno,  queen 
of  Olympus.  France  was  on  its  knees.  When  this 
admirable  Dauphiness  made  her  ceremonious  entry 
into  Paris,  her  carriage  disappeared  under  a  rain  of 
flowers.  Prostrated  before  the  altar  at  Notre  Dame, 
the  Princess  seemed  a  celestial  being,  an  ideal  repre- 


143 


144 


LAST  TEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


sentation  of  goodness  and  purity,  poesy  and  prayer. 
When  she  showed  herself  on  the  balcony  of  the  Tui¬ 
leries,  there  was  an  explosion  of  transport.  “ Mon 
Dieu ,  how  many  people  !  ”  she  exclaimed.  “  Madame,” 
said  the  Duke  de  Brissac,  “  with  all  due  deference  to 
Monseigneur  the  Dauphin,  they  are  all  lovers  who 
are  looking  at  you.” 

The  Dauphin  was  good,  honest,  worthy  of  respect  ; 
his  devotion,  his  charity,  the  solid  qualities  of  his 
heart,  his  love  for  the  people,  his  humane  and 
Christian  sentiments,  pointed  him  out  as  an  object  of 
public  esteem  ;  but  it  must  he  confessed  that  his 
appearance  was  not  attractive.  There  was  some¬ 
thing  awkward  in  his  gait,  something  wandering  and 
uncertain  in  his  glance,  something  abrupt  in  his  man¬ 
ners,  something  rude  in  the  sound  of  his  voice,  some¬ 
thing  heavy  in  his  whole  person.  One  might  have 
thought  he  was  always  afraid  of  being  misled  or 
betrayed.  He  kept  himself  on  the  defensive,  embar¬ 
rassed  in  spite  of  the  elevation  of  his  rank,  doubtful 
of  himself  in  spite  of  the  eulogies  of  those  who  flat¬ 
tered  him,  and  seeming  haughty  at  times  through 
the  very  excess  of  his  timidity. 

His  two  brothers  did  not  resemble  him  in  the  least. 
The  Count  de  Provence  and  the  Count  d’Artois 
were  as  self-confident  as  he  was  modest  and  re¬ 
served.  One,  the  future  Louis  XVIIT.,  was  a  wit, 
a  great  admirer  of  Horace,  always  ready  with  happy 
quotations,  adroit,  intelligent,  clever,  remarkable  for 
precocious  prudence  and  a  wisely  dissimulated  ambi- 


THE  BOY  AL  FAMILY  IN  1770 


145 


tion.  The  other,  the  future  Charles  X.,  was  a  young 
man,  or  rather  a  roguish  boy,  witty,  full  of  gaiety 
and  high  spirits,  already  showing  plainly  that  he 
would  love  women,  horses,  and  pleasures  to  mad¬ 
ness.  The  two  sisters  of  the  three  brothers,  Madame 
Clotilde,  the  future  Queen  of  Sardinia,  and  Madame 
Elisabeth,  the  future  martyr,  were,  at  the  time  of 
Marie  Antoinette’s  arrival  in  France,  two  amiable 
and  good  little  girls  to  whom  the  Dauphiness 
became  sincerely  attached. 

She  displayed,  also,  a  sincere  affection  for  Louis 
XV.,  who,  on  his  side,  showed  her  much  attention 
and  sympathy.  On  seeing  this  charming  Dau¬ 
phiness,  so  admired  and  so  admirable,  the  old  King 
experienced  the  satisfaction  felt  by  Louis  XIV.  when 
the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  arrived  at  Versailles. 
The  seductive  daughter  of  the  German  Cæsars  re¬ 
stored  life  and  movement  to  those  vast  apartments 
of  the  Queen,  which  had  been  deserted  since  the  death 
of  Marie  Leczinska.  She’had  the  chamber  successively 
occupied  by  the  wife  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  Duchess  of 
Bavaria,  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  and  the  wife  of 
Louis  XV.1  She  rose  between  nine  and  ten  in  the 
morning,  dressed,  said  her  prayers,  then  breakfasted 
and  went  to  see  her  aunts,  where  she  usually  found 
the  King.  The  entries  took  place  shortly  before 
noon.  The  Dauphiness  rouged  herself  and  washed 
her  hands  before  everybody.  At  noon,  she  was  pres- 


1  Room  No.  115  of  M.  Soulié’s  Notice  du  Musée. 


146 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ent  at  Mass  in  the  chapel.  After  Mass,  she  dined 
in  public,  with  the  Dauphin,  in  the  room  known  as 
the  Queen’s  antechamber.1  “  The  ushers,”  says 
Madame  Campan,  “suffered  all  decently  dressed 
people  to  enter  ;  the  sig’ht  was  the  delight  of  persons 
from  the  country.  At  the  dinner  hour  there  was 
nobody  to  be  met  on  the  stairs  but  honest  folks, 
who,  after  having  seen  the  Dauphiness  take  her 
soup,  went  to  see  the  princes  eat  their  bouilli,  and 
then  ran  till  they  were  out  of  breath  to  behold 
Mesdames  at  their  dessert.”  Dinner  was  over  at 
half-past  one.  The  Dauphiness  then  went  to  the 
apartments  of  the  Dauphin,  which  were  just  under¬ 
neath  hers,  and  afterwards  returned  to  her  room, 
where  she  embroidered,  read,  wrote,  and  took  lessons 
in  literature  and  on  the  harpsichord  ;  a  promenade 
in  the  park  and  the  environs,  one  or  two  visits  to 
Mesdames,  play  from  seven  o’clock  until  nine,  then 
supper,  and  then  to  bed  at  eleven  ;  such  was  the  Prin¬ 
cess’s  way  of  life.  Her  principal  society  was  that 
of  her  aunts,  Mesdames  Adelaide,  Victoire,  and 
Sophie,  who  in  1770  had  arrived  at  the  respective 
ages  of  thirty-eight,  thirty-seven,  and  thirty-six.  All 
three  had  remained  unmarried.  In  spite  of  their 
exemplary  moral  conduct,  they  had  their  defects. 
Madame  Adelaide  liked  to  meddle  in  everything. 
She  thought  she  had  influence  over  her  father,  and 
the  ministers  were  obliged  to  reckon  with  her. 


1  Room  No.  117  of  M.  Soulié’s  Notice  du  Musée. 


THE  ROYAL  FAMILY  IN  1770 


147 


Madame  Victoire  usually  followed  the  directions  of 
her  elder  sister,  although  her  own  mind  was  not 
inactive.  As  to  Madame  Sophie,  she  was  upright 
but  indolent.  “Never  did  I  see  anybody,”  says 
Madame  Campan,  “  who  had  such  a  frightened  look  ; 
she  walked  with  extreme  rapidity,  and  to  recognize 
without  looking  at  the  people  who  made  way  for 
her,  she  had  acquired  a  habit  of  glancing,  sideways, 
like  a  hare.  This  Princess  was  so  exceedingly  diffi¬ 
dent  that  one  might  be  with  her  daily,  for  years 
together,  without  hearing  her  utter  a  single  word. 

.  .  .  There  were  occasions,  however,  when  she  be¬ 
came  all  at  once  affable  and  condescending,  and 
manifested  the  most  communicative  good  nature  ; 
this  was  when  there  was  a  storm  ;  she  was  afraid 
of  it,  and  such  was  her  alarm  that  she  then  ap¬ 
proached  the  humblest  persons  and  would  ask  them 
a  thousand  obliging  questions  ;  a  flash  of  lightning 
made  her  squeeze  their  hands;  a  peal  of  thunder 
would  drive  her  to  embrace  them.” 

The  youngest  daughter  of  Louis  XV.,  Madame 
Louise,  was  at  the  Carmelite  convent  of  Saint  Denis, 
and  we  have  seen  that  the  Dauphiness  visited  her 
there  before  going  to  Versailles.  She  received  the 
habit,  September  10, 1770,  and  Marie  Antoinette  was 
present  at  the  ceremony.  The  Mass  was  said  by  the 
Papal  Nuncio.  Madame  Louise  of  France,  in  religion 
Sister  Thérèse  Augustine,  received  communion.  Be¬ 
fore  taking  the  frieze  habit  of  Carmel,  the  Princess 
put  on  for  the  last  time  a  royal  vestment,  a  robe  em- 


148 


LAST  YEABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


broidered  with  silver  and  besprent  with  flowers  of 
gold.  Resplendent  with  the  lustre  of  jewels,  her 
head  covered  with  a  diadem,  and  beside  her  the  lords 
and  ladies  who  once  composed  her  household,  she 
made  her  appearance  through  clouds  of  incense.  One 
might  have  thought  it  an  apotheosis.  A  discourse 
was  pronounced  by  the  Bishop  of  Troyes  which  was 
so  affecting  that,  according  to  the  Abbé  Proyart,  who 
describes  the  solemnity,  everybody  was  wiping  away 
tears  except  the  courageous  woman  who  caused  them 
to  flow.  Then  all  the  pomp  disappeared.  After  hav¬ 
ing  been  absent  for  a  moment,  the  King’s  daughter 
returned,  dressed  as  a  Carmelite,  and  received  from 
the  hands  of  the  Dauphiness  the  mantle  and  the 
religious  veil. 


IX 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AND  MADAME  DU  BARRY 
URROUNDED  by  admiration  and  universal  hom- 


age,  Marie  Antoinette  appears  at  the  summit  of 
happiness.  On  the  surface,  her  destiny  is  magnificent. 
But  the  depths  of  her  heart  are  already  sorrowful. 
The  inexplicable  coldness  of  her  husband  is  not  her 
only  chagrin.  Young  as  she  is,  she  already  begins  to 
see  the  snares  of  every  kind  which  malicious  people 
are  laying  for  her.  Naïve,  gentle,  ingenuous,  she  has 
been  transported  in  spite  of  herself  into  an  atmosphere 
of  mean  passions,  Machiavellian  calculations,  and  in¬ 
terminable  intrigues.  She  is  perforce  the  object  of 
minute  and  often  malicious  inspection.  All  eyes  are 
fixed  upon  her.  Under  an  appearance  of  hyperbolical 
eulogies  and  enthusiastic  adulations  there  are  many 
criticisms,  many  jealousies  ;  and  if  one  could  believe 
it,  many  hatreds.  Some  people  begrudged  the  Dau- 
phiness  her  youth  and  beauty.  Converted  coquettes, 
old  maids,  ambitious  or  intriguing  women,  find  it  hard 
to  endure  this  superiority  of  birth,  rank,  grace,  and 
beauty.  Envy  skilfully  conceals  itself  under  the 
mask  of  politics.  The  Dauphiness  is  censured  as  rep- 


140 


150 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


resenting  the  Austrian  alliance  ;  an  alliance  which, 
they  say,  is  contrary  to  the  traditions  of  French 
diplomacy.  They  have  a  spite  against  her  for  being 
the  daughter  of  the  great  Empress  whose  genius  has 
wrought  prodigies.  The  creatures  of  Madame  Du 
Barry  are  offended  by  the  young  couple  to  whom 
belongs  the  future,  and  who  are  at  present  like  the 
mute  protest  of  virtue  against  vice,  what  is  honest 
against  what  is  scandalous.  All  the  “  Basils  ”  of  the 
court,  and  God  knows  there  are  plenty  of  them,  would 
already  be  glad  to  begin  softly,  very  quietly,  on  the 
sly,  the  calumnious  murmurs  whose  crescendo  is 
terrible. 

One  of  Marie  Antoinette’s  sufferings  came  from  the 
obligation  of  meeting  the  Du  Barry,  that  worthless 
woman  who  wanted  to  treat  with  her  as  power  to 
power,  that  woman  whom  Maria  Theresa,  perhaps  a 
trifle  too  politic,  had  ordered  her  to  treat  with  defer¬ 
ence,  out  of  respect  for  Louis  XY.  ;  that  woman  who 
is  the  enemy  of  the  Duke  de  Choiseul,  the  principal 
partisan  of  the  Austrian  alliance  at  the  court  of  Ver¬ 
sailles.  Revolted  in  her  youthful  pride,  throwing 
back  her  fine  and  haughty  head,  the  Dauphiness  re¬ 
members  the  blood  which  flows  in  her  veins,  the 
lightning  which  flashes  in  her  eyes,  and  the  daughter 
of  Cæsars  conceives  disgust  for  the  favorite  who  is 
debasing  the  throne.  She  writes  to  Maria  Theresa, 
July  9, 1770  :  “  The  King  shows  me  a  thousand  kind¬ 
nesses,  and  I  love  him  tenderly,  but  it  is  pitiable  to 
see  the  weakness  he  has  for  Madame  Du  Barry,  who  is 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MADAME  DU  BAER  Y  151 


the  most  stupid  and  impertinent  creature  imaginable.” 
The  two  women  are  on  opposite  sides  in  politics  ;  one 
desires  Choiseul’s  retention  in  the  ministry,  the  other 
his  dismissal.  Two  camps  are  formed,  the  excite¬ 
ment  is  keen  ;  Madame  Du  Barry  will  triumph.  The 
Duke  de  Choiseul,  intoxicated  by  success,  and  long 
accustomed  to  vanquish  all  obstacles,  has  come  to  be¬ 
lieve  himself  not  merely  necessary,  but  indispensable. 
The  powerful  minister  would  have  been  willing  to 
say  of  his  enemies  just  what  the  Duke  de  Guise  said 
shortly  before  he  was  struck;  down  :  “  They  would 
not  dare.”  The  political  chessboard  was  so  compli¬ 
cated,  that  a  man  like  him,  who  knew  all  the  pieces 
so  well,  believed  that  Louis  XV.  would  not  have  the 
courage  to  dismiss  him.  Baron  de  Gleichen,  one  of 
Choiseul’s  best  friends,  thought  him  imprudent  to  the 
point  of  blundering.  “  It  would  have  been  very  easy 
for  him,”  says  the  Baron  in  his  curious  Souvenirs,  “  to 
come  to  terms  with  Madame  Du  Barry,  who  would 
have  asked  nothing  better  than  to  be  delivered  from 
the  rapacious  and  tyrannous  claws  of  her  brother-in- 
law,  her  protectors,  and  all  the  roués  whose  instru¬ 
ment  she  was.  She  was  a  good-natured  creature, 
moreover,  who  disliked  being  employed  to  do  harm, 
and  whose  joyous  humor  would  have  made  her  dote 
on  M.  de  Choiseul  as  soon  as  she  began  to  know  him. 
The  King  would  certainly  have  done  the  impossible  to 
favor  and  consolidate  the  union  between  his  favorite 
and  his  minister,  whom  he  was  very  sorry  to  lose  ; 
nothing  proves  this  better  than  a  billet  he  wrote  him 


152 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


towards  the  last,  when  they  wrote  oftener  than  they 
saw  each  other.  M.  de  Choiseul  complaining  to  his 
master  of  a  horrible  annoyance  by  which  he  was  men¬ 
aced,  the  latter  replied,  ‘  What  you  imagine  is  false  ; 
people  deceive  you  ;  be  on  your  guard  against  those 
who  surround  you  whom  I  do  not  like.  You  do  not 
know  Madame  Du  Barry  ;  all  France  would  be  at  her 
feet,  if  .  .  .  Signed:  Louis.’  Does  not  this  billet, 
which  I  have  seen,  express  the  wish  for  an  ar¬ 
rangement,  a  prayer  to  lend  himself  to  it,  and  the 
avowal,  strange  enough  from  a  king,  that  the  simple 
suffrage  of  his  minister  would  do  more  than  all  that 
lay  in  his  royal  power?”1  This  reflection  which  is 
added  by  M.  de  Gleichen,  is  in  the  taste  and  style  of 
the  eighteenth  century  :  “  It  is  most  astonishing  that 
the  sensitive  heart  of  M.  de  Choiseul  could  have  re¬ 
sisted  so  much  kindness,  the  desire  to  play  a  trick  on 
his  enemies,  and  the  certainty  of  reigning  more  com¬ 
fortably  by  the  aid  of  a  woman  who  would  have  been 
entirely  at  his  orders.” 

The  Duke  de  Choiseul  had  been  the  favorite  of  the 
Marquise  de  Pompadour.  It  was  not  morality,  then, 
which  prevented  his  being  on  good  terms  with  the 
Countess  Du  Barry,  for,  from  the  point  of  view  of 
scandal,  the  two  mistresses  were  on  an  equality,  and 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  goodness  of  character, 
the  Countess  was  much  better  than  the  Marquise. 


1  Souvenirs  de  Baron  de  Gleichen ,  preceded  by  a  notice  by  M. 
Paul  Grimblot. 


TEE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MADAME  DU  BARRY  153 


The  great  noble,  prouder  of  his  person  than  of  his 
place,  the  audacious  statesman,  more  influential,  more 
flattered  than  his  master,  and  saying  to  those  about 
him  :  “  Don’t  outbid  the  King  ;  that  is  not  worth 
while,”  the  brilliant  duke  and  peer  who  remembered 
that  in  former  times  a  man  of  his  rank  would  have 
thought  he  degraded  himself  by  accepting  a  place  as 
secretary  of  state,  and  who  fancied  he  was  doing  a 
great  honor  to  Louis  XV.  in  being  willing  to  be  his 
minister,  Choiseul,  infatuated  with  his  triumphs,  was 
no  longer  the  skilful  courtier  of  the  days  of  Madame 
de  Pompadour. 

The  idea  of  inclining  before  an  inferior  sultana 
revolted  the  pride  of  this  grand  vizier  who  did  not 
dread  the  bowstring.  As  has  been  very  well  said 
by  M.  Jobez  in  his  book,  La  France  sous  Louis  XV ., 
he  was  “one  of  those  men  of  pleasure  who  occupy 
themselves  with  public  affairs  as  a  diversion  agreea¬ 
ble  to  both  their  imagination  and  their  vanity.”  He 
would  not  endure  anything  contrary  to  his  conven¬ 
ience  or  his  tastes.  Madame  Du  Barry  displeased 
him  ;  he  defied  her.  To  believe  that  the  minister  who 
had  concluded  the  family  compact  and  annexed 
Corsica  to  France;  who  had  dared  to  break  a  lance  in 
the  face  of  the  most  powerful  of  modern  associa¬ 
tions,  the  Jesuits;  who  was  the  idol  of  the  nobility, 
the  Parliaments  and  the  philosophers;  who,  cele¬ 
brated  in  every  tone  by  all  the  trumpets  of  Fame, 
had  been  able  to  make  himself  feared  and  admired  by 
Europe,  —  to  believe  that  he,  the  Duke  de  Choiseul, 


154 


LAST  YEABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


would  be  sacrificed  to  a  creature  of  the  Du  Barry 
sort,  seemed  to  him  unlikely  and  absurd. 

It  was  this,  however,  which  occurred.  Let  us 
affirm,  for  the  rest,  that  the  enmity  of  the  Countess 
was  not  the  sole  cause  of  the  minister’s  downfall.  If 
he  was  upheld  by  the  Dauphiness,  he  had  an  adversary 
in  the  Dauphin,  because,  several  years  before,  he  had 
said  to  the  father  of  this  Prince  :  “  Monseigneur,  I 
shall  perhaps  have  some  day  the  misfortune  to  be 
your  subject,  but  I  will  never  have  that  of  being 
your  servant.”  Religious  people  reproached  him 
with  the  expulsion  of  the  Jesuits  and  the  friendship 
of  Voltaire.  The  conservatives  accused  him  of  a 
weakness  for  the  Parliaments.  The  peace  party 
found  his  foreign  policy  bungling  and  disquieting. 
They  accused  him  of  being  on  the  point  of  doing 
what  Louvois  had  done  under  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.,  of  setting  Europe  afire  in  order  to  prove  that 
the  Ministry  of  War  had  been  well  conducted. 
Louis  XV.,  who  grew  more  timid  as  he  grew  older, 
became  frightened,  possibly  not  without  reason. 
The  alliance  of  the  Northern  courts  already  existed 
in  principle.  England  was  menacing.  A  conflict 
between  the  English  and  the  Spanish  had  just  broken 
out  in  the  Falkland  Islands.  Louis  XV.  was  per¬ 
suaded  of  the  imminence  of  a  coalition,  and  a  new 
Seven  Years’  War,  which  would  be  due,  said  they, 
to  the  imprudence  and  levity  of  Choiseul.  The 
enemies  of  the  minister  then  apprised  Madame  Du 
Barry  that  the  time  had  come  to  be  done  with  him. 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MADAME  DU  BARRY  155 


The  story-tellers  pretend  that,  tossing  up  oranges, 
she  exclaimed,  bursting  with  laughter:  “Skip,  Choi- 
seul  !  skip,  Praslin  !  ”  They  add  that,  after  having 
announced  to  Louis  XV.  that  she  had  just  discharged 
her  cook,  she  said  to  her  royal  lover:  “I  have  got 
rid  of  my  Choiseul  ;  when  will  you  get  rid  of 
yours  ?  ” 

December  24,  1770,  the  minister  received  the  fol¬ 
lowing  letter  from  the  King:  — 

“My  Cousin,  — The  discontent  caused  me  by  your 
services  forces  me  to  exile  you  to  Chanteloup, 
whither  you  will  repair  within  twenty-four  hours. 
I  would  have  sent  you  further,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  particular  esteem  I  have  for  Madame  the  Duch¬ 
ess  de  Choiseul,  whose  health  interests  me  much. 
Take  care  that  your  conduct  does  not  make  me 
take  another  course.  Whereupon,  I  pray  God,  my 
cousin,  that  He  may  have  you  in  His  holy  keeping. 
Signed:  Louis.” 

Then  was  seen,  as  has  been  remarked  by  M.  Henri 
Martin,  what  had  never  been  seen  before, —  the  court 
faithful  to  the  person  in  disgrace.  During  the  few 
hours  that  elapsed  before  the  Duke  and  Duchess  de 
Choiseul  quitted  Paris,  an  innumerable  crowd  of 
great  lords  and  ladies,  magistrates,  military  men, 
citizens,  men  of  letters,  came  to  inscribe  their 
names  on  the  register  of  his  house.  The  young 
Duke  de  Chartres,  that  prince  who  was  afterwards 
to  be  called  Philippe-Égalité,  forced  his  way  in  to 
throw  himself  into  the  arms  of  the  exiled  min- 


156 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ister.1  The  highest  personages  solicited  the  King’s 
authorization  to  pay  visits  to  Chanteloup.  Did  this 
signify  that  human  nature  was  better,  more  gener¬ 
ous,  than  at  other  epochs?  Not  at  all.  It  was 
simply  that  opposition  was  then  in  fashion.  It  was 
thought,  moreover,  that  Choiseul  would  return  to 
power.  Count  de  Ségur  has  said  in  his  Memoirs  :  — 
“The  King  remained  almost  alone  in  his  mistress’s 
boudoir.  A  column  put  up  at  Chanteloup,  on  which 
the  numerous  visitors  of  the  exile  inscribed  their 
names,  served  as  a  monument  of  this  new  Fronde. 
The  impressions  of  youth  are  keen,  and  never  shall 
I  forget  that  produced  in  me  by  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  my  father’s  name  and  mine  traced  on  this 
column  of  opposition,  the  presage  of  other  resistances 
which  afterwards  assumed  such  grave  importance. 
.  .  .  From  one  end  of  the  kingdom  to  the  other, 
people  made  a  point  of  honor  of  the  opposition;  to 
lofty  minds  it  seemed  a  duty,  to  generous  men  a 
virtue,  to  the  philosophers  a  useful  weapon  to  regain 
liberty;  in  fine,  a  means  of  becoming  conspicuous, 
and,  so  to  say,  a  fashion  tvhich  the  young  seized 
upon  with  ardor.  The  Parliaments  made  remon¬ 
strances,  the  preachers  sermons,  the  philosophers 
books,  the  young  courtiers  epigrams.  Feeling  that 
the  government  was  in  unskilful  hands,  everybody 
defied  a  government  which  no  longer  inspired  either 
confidence  or  respect.” 


1  See  M.  de  Grasset’s  interesting  work,  Madame  de  Choiseul  et 
son  Temps.  1  vol.  Didier. 


TUE  DAUPIIINESS  AED  MADAME  DU  BARRY  157 


Madame  Du  Barry,  little  adapted  to  political  con¬ 
tests,  was  all  surprise  at  her  victory.  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette  had  seen,  and  not  without  keen  vexation,  the 
downfall  of  a  friend  devoted  to  the  house  of  Austria. 
Alarmed  by  this  event,  Maria  Theresa  desired  her 
daughter  to  treat  the  powerful  favorite  with  defer¬ 
ence.  But  the  disgust  which  this  woman  inspired 
in  the  Dauphiness  was  daily  on  the  increase.  Count 
de  Mercy-Argenteau  wrote  to  the  Empress,  Septem¬ 
ber  2,  1771:  “Your  Majesty  will  have  deigned  to 
observe  in  my  first  and  very  humble  report,  that 
Monsieur  the  Dauphin  had  approved  of  my  represen¬ 
tations  as  to  the  utility  it  would  be  to  Madame  the 
Dauphiness  not  to  treat  the  Countess  Du  Barry  too 
badly.  This  point  appears  to  me  more  essential  than 
ever,  because  it  is  the  focus  of  all  the  annoyances 
and  regrettable  proceedings  into  which  the  King- 
might  allow  himself  to  be  drawn  in  order  to  show 
his  resentment  toward  his  children.  The  occasions 
which  I  have  had  to  see  this  favorite  have  given 
me  an  opportunity  to  become  acquainted  with  her; 
she  seems  to  have  little  intelligence,  and  much 
levity  and  vanity,  yet  without  displaying  a  wicked 
or  hateful  character.  It  is  very  easy  to  make  her 
talk,  and  in  many  cases  one  can  profit  largely  by 
her  indiscretion.  I  am  certain  that  if  Madame  the 
Dauphiness  could  be  induced  to  speak  to  her  only 
once,  it  would  then  be  very  easy  for  me  to  curb  any 
further  pretensions  and  to  prevent  the  thousand 
embarrassments  arising  from  the  singular  position 
of  the  interior  of  this  court.” 


158 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Maria  Theresa  abounded  in  the  same  sense  as  her 
ambassador.  She  wrote  a  letter,  September  30,  1771, 
to  Marie  Antoinette,  in  which  she  recommended  her 
to  treat  Madame  Du  Barry  as  a  lady  admitted  to  the 
court  and  the  society  of  the  King.  Declaring  that 
the  Dauphiness,  as  first  subject  of  the  sovereign, 
owed  obedience  and  submission  to  Louis  XV.,  she 
added:  “You  owe  the  example  to  the  court  and  the 
courtiers,  that  the  wishes  of  your  master  should  be 
executed.  If  base  actions  or  familiarities  were  re¬ 
quired  of  you,  neither  I  nor  any  one  else  could 
counsel  them  to  you,  but  an  indifferent  word,  certain 
attentions,  not  for  the  lady,  but  for  your  grandfather, 
your  master,  your  benefactor!  ”  In  spite  of  all  Maria 
Theresa  could  say,  it  was  none  the  less  regrettable 
that  a  grandfather  should  wish  to  impose  such  an 
associate  on  the  wife  of  his  grandson. 

This  was  a  real  suffering  for  the  legitimate  pride 
of  Marie  Antoinette.  “The  ascendancy  taken  by 
the  Countess  Du  Barry  over  the  King’s  mind  has 
scarcely  any  bounds,”  wrote  Count  de  Mercy,  Decem¬ 
ber  19,  1771;  “it  visibly  influences  whatever  con¬ 
cerns  the  royal  family,  and  the  more  the  favorite  is 
mortified  by  ill  treatment,  the  more  use  she  seeks  to 
make  of  advantageous  moments  to  show  her  resent¬ 
ment.”  Count  de  Mercy,  acting  on  the  instructions 
of  the  Empress,  did  not  cease  trying  to  induce  the 
Dauphiness  to  be  polite  to  the  favorite,  and  ended  by 
gaining  his  cause  in  a  certain  measure.  He  relates 
it  with  satisfaction  in  a  letter  written  to  Maria 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MADAME  DU  BARRY  159 


Theresa,  August  14,  1772.  He  says  that  Madame 
Du  Barry  having  arrived  after  the  King’s  Mass,  with 
the  Duchess  d’ Aiguillon,  “Madame  the  Dauphiness 
spoke  to  the  latter;  turning  toward  the  favorite 
afterward,  she  made  some  remarks  about  the  weather 
and  the  hunting  parties,  in  such  a  way  that,  without 
directly  addressing  the  Countess  Du  Barry,  the  latter 
might  nevertheless  believe  that  these  remarks  were 
made  to  her  as  much  as  to  the  Duchess  d’Aiguillon. 
Nothing  more  was  needed  to  make  the  favorite  very 
well  contented.  The  King,  apprised  of  what  had 
passed,  seemed  much  satisfied  with  it,  and  showed 
as  much  to  Madame  the  Dauphiness  by  the  little 
attentions  he  paid  her  the  same  evening  at  the 
state  dinner.” 

Marie  Antoinette,  however,  in  spite  of  her  desire 
to  conform  to  her  mother’s  recommendations,  could 
not  conceal  the  repugnance  inspired  in  her  by  the 
woman  whose  favor  was  such  a  shameful  scandal. 

In  a  letter  addressed  to  her  mother,  January  21, 
1772,  the  Dauphiness  was  unable  to  dissimulate  her 
feelings  of  revolt  against  certain  requirements  : 
“Madame  my  very  dear  mother,”  said  she,  “you  may 
well  believe  that  I  will  always  sacrifice  my  preju¬ 
dices  and  repugnances,  so  long  as  nothing  ostenta¬ 
tious  or  contrary  to  honor  is  proposed  to  me.  It 
would  be  the  unhappiness  of  my  life  if  misunder¬ 
standings  arose  between  my  two  families  ;  my  heart 
will  always  be  for  my  own,  my  duties  here  will  be 
very  hard  to  fulfil.  I  shudder  at  this  idea.” 


160 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Marie  Antoinette’s  noble  candor  stung  Maria 
Theresa  to  the  quick.  The  Empress,  accustomed  to 
domination  both  as  mother  and  sovereign,  replied 
to  her  daughter,  February  13:  “You  have  made  me 
laugh  by  fancying  that  either  I  or  my  minister  could 
ever  give  you  counsels  against  honor,  or  even  against 
the  least  decorum.  Such  traits  show  what  a  hold 
prejudices  and  unwise  counsels  have  on  your  mind. 
Your  agitation  after  a  few  words  makes  one  tremble 
for  3tou.  What  interest  could  I  have  but  your  good 
and  even  that  of  your  State,  the  Dauphin’s  happiness 
and  your  own,  the  critical  situation  in  which  you 
and  all  the  realm  and  the  family  find  yourselves,  the 
intrigues  and  factions  ?  Who  can  advise  you  better 
than  my  minister,  who  knows  the  kingdom  thor¬ 
oughly  and  the  instruments  at  work  there.  ...  It 
is  necessary  to  follow  all  the  counsels,  without 
exception,  which  he  will  give  you,  and,  by  a  meas¬ 
ured  and  consistent  course  of  conduct  to  undertake 
to  satisfy  everybody.” 

If  Maria  Theresa  insisted  with  so  much  vivacity, 
it  was  because  she  knew  that  at  this  very  moment 
the  powers  hostile  to  Austria  were  redoubling  their 
efforts  to  conciliate  the  favorite  and  break  the 
alliance  between  the  courts  of  Vienna  and  Ver¬ 
sailles.  “We  know  for  sure,”  she  wrote  to  her 
ambassador,  “  that  England  and  the  King  of  Prussia 
want  to  gain  over  the  Du  Barry;  you  ought  to  know 
better  than  I  if  you  think  the  thing  is  so.  The 
King  is  constant  in  his  friendships,  and  I  dare 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MADAME  DU  BARRY  161 


appeal  to  his  heart;  but  he  is  feeble,  his  surround¬ 
ings  do  not  leave  him  time  to  think.  ...  If 
France  smirks  with  Prussia,  which  will  surely  betray 
her,  then  I  must  tell  you  that  this  is  the  only  point 
where  I  could  not  prevent  myself  from  changing, 
even  to  my  great  regret;  but  that  would  be  infal¬ 
lible.  .To  prevent  these  evils  and  annoyances  for 
the  monarchy  and  the  family  everything  must  be 
employed,  and  there  is  no  one  but  my  daughter,  the 
Dauphiness,  assisted  by  your  counsels  and  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  the  locality,  who  could  render  this  service 
to  her  family  and  her  country.  Above  all,  she  must 
cultivate  the  good  graces  of  the  King  by  her  assiduity 
and  affection;  let  her  try  to  divine  his  thoughts, 
avoid  shocking  him  in  any  way,  and  treat  the  fa¬ 
vorite  well.  I  do  not  require  base  actions,  still  less 
intimacies,  but  the  attentions  due  in  consideration 
of  her  grandfather  and  master,  and  of  the  good  which 
may  result  for  us  and  our  two  courts  ;  perhaps  the 
alliance  depends  on  it.”  O  nothingness  of  human 
grandeurs!  A  woman  of  mind,  of  heart,  of  genius, 
a  Maria  Theresa,  subordinating  the  friendships  of 
the  most  powerful  empires  on  earth,  the  maintenance 
of  the  general  equilibrium,  the  destinies  of  Europe, 
to  the  goodwill  of  a  Du  Barry!  The  unfortunate 
Marie  Antoinette,  more  to  be  pitied  than  envied,  in 
spite  of  all  her  éclat,  her  beauty,  and  prestige,  began 
to  become  what  she  was  to  be  until  her  death  :  the 
victim  of  policy. 


X 


THE  DATTPHINESS  AND  MARIA  THERESA 
ISTORY  does  not  contain  a  more  curious  cor- 


-J _ L  respondence  than  that  between  the  Empress 

Maria  Theresa  and  her  ambassador  at  Versailles, 
Count  de  Mercy-Argenteau.  Never  perhaps  was  the 
character  of  a  sovereign  and  the  talent  of  a  diplo¬ 
matist  revealed  in  a  more  striking  manner.  Maria 
Theresa  shows  herself  completely  in  her  letters. 
What  we  have  here  is  the  political  woman  accus¬ 
tomed  to  power  and  domination  ;  the  woman  of 
brains  who  sees,  knows,  and  directs  everything;  the 
mother  who  inspires  her  children  with  fear  and 
veneration  ;  the  sovereign  who  occupies  herself  with 
the  same  solicitude  and  the  same  authority  in  her 
family  and  her  empire.  Her  counsels  are  like 
orders,  her  language  is  the  language  of  command. 
Although  her  daughter  may  have  become  a  French¬ 
woman,  she  always  regards  her  as  a  German  prin¬ 
cess,  and  would  like  to  make  of  her  a  sort  of 
Austrian  ambassadress,  accredited  to  Louis  XV.,  but 
subordinate  to  Count  de  Mercy.  Astonished  that  a 
young  girl  of  fifteen  should  not  have  the  penetration, 


162 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MADIA  THEBES  A  1(33 


the  experience,  the  maturity  of  a  matron,  the  Em¬ 
press  does  not  admit  the  right  in  Marie  Antoinette 
to  have  the  slightest  imperfection.  To  her,  the 
Dauphiness  always  remains  the  schoolgirl  of  Schon- 
brun  and  the  Burg. 

Like  all  those  who  govern,  Maria  Theresa  has  a 
passion  to  be  well  informed.  The  most  minute 
details  interest  her.  She  wants  to  know  the  least 
particulars  of  the  physical  and  moral  life  of  her 
daughter.  Nothing  escapes  her.  She  thinks  of 
everything:  toilettes,  reading,  conversations,  dances, 
promenades,  all  pass  under  her  rigorous,  incessant 
control.  Were  she  installed  in  the  château  of 
Versailles  she  could  not  know  all  its  detours  in  a 
more  thorough  manner.  She  does  inhabit  it  in 
spirit;  she  knows  all  the  secrets,  all  the  snares. 
Take  care!  she  says  to  her  daughter  every  minute. 
Knowing  the  French  character  as  well  as  if  she 
had  lived  in  France  all  her  life,  she  knows  what  to 
think  of  human  levity,  malice,  ingratitude,  and 
cowardice,  and  what  a  fund  of  envy  and  meanness 
exists  in  the  character  of  many  courtiers.  The 
Capitol  does  not  make  her  forget  the  Tarpeian  rock 
for  her  daughter,  and  at  certain  moments  she  utters 
such  dismal  words,  she  casts  such  an  unquiet  look 
toward  the  future,  that  one  might  think  that,  divin¬ 
ing  the  destiny  of  her  Antoinette,  she  sees  the 
scaffold  in  the  misty  distance. 

On  his  side,  the  correspondent  of  the  Empress  is 
a  model  of  diplomacy.  Supple,  active,  reserved, 


164 


LAST  TEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


knowing  how  to  put  himself  on  good  terms  with 
all  who  can  be  useful  to  his  government,  agreeable 
to  Louis  XV.  and  the  royal  family,  to  the  Duke  de 
Choiseul  and  the  Duke  d’Aiguillon,  to  the  devotees 
and  to  Madame  Du  Barry,  an  observer  of  the  first 
order  and  an  indefatigable  worker,  exact  to  minutiæ, 
prudent  to  exaggeration,  skilful  in  handling  all  the 
pieces  of  the  most  complicated  diplomatic  chess¬ 
board,  Count  de  Mercy-Argenteau  is  in  love  with 
his  profession.  When  he  addresses  his  very  humble 
reports  to  his  sovereign,  he  brings  to  them  an  exces¬ 
sive  care  and  zeal;  if  he  happens  to  receive  the 
felicitations  of  the  Sacred  Majesty ,  as  he  always 
calls  the  Empress,  he  breaks  into  transports  of  joy. 
The  letters  he  wrote  to  Maria  Theresa  independently 
of  his  official  despatches,  form  a  veritable  journal  of 
the  existence  of  the  Dauphiness.  Everything  is 
there  with  its  date  and  hour.  The  ambassador 
knows  what  passes  in  the  salons  of  the  Princess, 
and  knows  also  what  does  not  pass  in  her  alcove. 
A  chambermaid,  a  physician,  what  am  I  saying? 
A  confessor  would  not  he  better  informed. 

As  to  the  Dauphiness,  she  is  still  a  child.  Sweet, 
simple,  ingenuous,  incredulous  of  evil,  mocking  a 
little  at  etiquette,  sincerely  pious,  but  with  an 
always  amiable  piety,  regretting  Vienna  but  loving 
Versailles,  German  by  her  memories  but  French  by 
her  heart,  full  of  respect  and  affection  for  her  august 
mother  hut  finding  her  at  times  a  trifle  too  severe, 
the  seductive  Princess,  on  account  of  the  inexplic- 


THE  DA  UPIIINESS  AND  MARIA  THERESA  165 


able  coldness  of  her  husband,  is  still  a  young  girl 
although  a  married  woman. 

If  she  has  some  little  defects,  if  from  time  to  time 
she  can  be  accused  of  some  trifling  imprudences 
which  one  day  she  will  expiate  in  a  manner  so 
cruel,  they  are  the  imprudences  and  defects  which 
have  the  excuse  of  youth  and  also  its  charm.  Marie 
Antoinette,  and  it  is  this  which  gives  her  physiog¬ 
nomy  something  so  sympathetic  and  so  graciously 
feminine,  Marie  Antoinette  has  the  spirit  of  her  age, 
its  gaiety,  sprightliness,  unconcern.  This  amiable 
Dauphiness,  who  calls  Louis  XV.  papa,  and  who 
throws  her  arms  about  his  neck  without  asking  his 
permission;  who,  still  a  child  herself,  takes  her 
chief  pleasure  in  the  society  of  children,  and  who, 
when  she  sees  her  lady  of  honor  appear,  the  severe 
and  punctilious  Countess  de  Noailles,  says  with  a 
laugh:  “Now  let  us  behave  properly;  here  comes 
Madame  l’Etiquette;”  this  Princess,  so  natural  and 
charming,  contrasts  with  her  surroundings  as  spring 
does  with  winter.  She  resembles  the  young  trees 
full  of  sap  which  grow  freely  in  the  fields,  and  not 
those  puny  shrubs  in  the  park  of  Versailles  which 
cannot  grow  except  under  rule  and  square.  Her 
simplicity  is  her  most  beautiful  ornament.  Her 
richest  diadem  is  her  long  fair  hair.  Not  one  of 
her  jewels  can  be  compared  to  the  sparkle  of 
her  eyes. 

Well,  if  one  can  believe  it,  this  Princess  whose 
innocence  and  gentleness  should  soften  all  hearts. 


166 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


is  already  surrounded  by  enemies.  Mercy-Argen- 
teau  wrote  to  Maria  Theresa,  April  16,  1771:  “It 
is  almost  impossible  that  Your  Majesty  should  form 
a  very  exact  idea  of  tlie  horrible  confusion  prevailing 
here  in  everything.  The  throne  is  debased  by  the 
extension  of  the  favorite’s  credit  and  the  malevo¬ 
lence  of  her  partisans.  The  nation  vents  itself  in 
seditious  proposals  and  indecent  writings  in  which 
the  person  of  the  monarch  is  not  spared.  I  have  not 
hesitated  to  make  these  representations  to  Madame 
the  Dauphiness,  and  have  frequently  called  her 
attention  to  the  fact  that  the  only  possible  means 
of  avoiding  the  inconveniences  of  a  time  so  critical 
is  to  keep  profound  silence  concerning  things  as 
well  as  persons,  and  Her  Royal  Highness  begins  to 
feel  the  necessity  of  this  method.”  The  frank  and 
expansive  young  girl  must  conduct  herself  like  an 
old  diplomatist.  She  must  measure  and  calculate 
each  gesture,  each  word,  even  her  very  silence. 
Everything  is  noted,  commented  on,  and  criticised. 
Underneath  its  majestic  exterior  this  court  is  a 
veritable  ant-hill  of  petty  passions,  petty  intrigues. 
There  is  nothing  but  mines  and  countermines,  am¬ 
bushes,  coalitions,  cabals.  There  is  Madame  Du 
Barry’s  camp,  which  is  that  of  the  ministers,  that 
of  Madame  Adelaide  and  her  sisters,  the  camp  of 
the  Duke  de  Choiseul’s  friends,  and  even  that  of 
the  Count  de  Provence,  who,  though  so  young,  is 
already  a  wily  politician.  The  Dauphiness  is  spied 
upon  in  the  most  odious  manner.  Her  letters,  her 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MARIA  THERESA  167 


composition  books,  are  read,  and  pages  of  them  are 
torn  out,  evidently  with  a  view  to  imitating  her 
handwriting.  It  troubles  her  to  find  that  there  are 
double  keys  to  her  furniture.  In  order  to  preserve 
her  mother’s  letters,  she  is  obliged  to  hide  them 
under  her  pillows. 

Maria  Theresa  is  intensely  preoccupied  by  this 
whole  state  of  affairs.  She  is  especially  displeased 
with  Mesdames.  Although  she  recognizes  their 
solid  qualities  and  incontestable  virtue,  she  is 
jealous  of  them,  and  is  constantly  criticising  them; 
she  will  not  admit  that  these  princesses  have  the 
right  to  give  their  young  niece  the  least  advice. 
“I  own  to  )Tou,”  she  writes  to  Count  de  Mercy- 
Argenteau,  February  11,  1771,  “that  in  the  stormy 
circumstances  of  the  court  of  France,  my  daughter’s 
situation  greatly  disturbs  me.  Her  nonchalance, 
her  slight  inclination  for  all  serious  application,  her 
indiscretion  (caused  'by  her  youth  and  vivacity),  her 
relations  with  her  aunts,  and  particularly  with 
Madame  Adelaide,  who  is  perhaps  the  most  intrigu¬ 
ing  and  best  known  of  the  sisters,  furnish  me  with 
more  than  one  subject  of  fear.”  Maria  Theresa,  who 
is  German  to  the  ends  of  her  finger-nails,  and  who 
has  no  liking  for  the  French  nation,  although  she 
sought  the  alliance  of  the  court  of  Versailles,  expe¬ 
riences,  moreover,  a  sort  of  jealousy  of  the  affec¬ 
tion  manifested  for  her  new  country  by  the  former 
Archduchess.  “People  have  a  right  to  be  aston¬ 
ished,”  she  writes  to  her,  “at  the  slight  cordiality 


168 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


and  interest  that  you  have  for  Germans.  Believe 
me,  the  Frenchman  will  esteem  and  rely  upon  you 
more  if  he  finds  in  you  the  German  solidity  and 
frankness.  Don’t  be  ashamed  to  be  German  even 
to  awkwardness.”  One  comprehends  that  a  young 
Dauphiness  of  France  would  need  a  good  deal  of 
filial  respect  not  to  become  a  trifle  impatient  under 
this  by  far  too  Germanic  advice.  The  Empress  is 
sounder  when,  still  using  severe,  but  this  time  very 
sensible,  language,  she  writes  to  her  daughter,  July 
9,  1771:  “I  expect  in  vain  every  month  the  list  of 
your  reading  and  your  occupations.  ...  At  your 
age,  levities  and  puerilities  are  easily  excused,  but 
in  the  long  run  they  tire  everybody  and  you  too; 
they  will  make  you  very  uncomfortable.  ...  I 
cannot  conceal  from  you  that  people  are  already 
beginning  to  talk  about  them,  and  by  that  you  will 
lose  the  grand  idea  that  has  been  formed  of  you,  an 
essential  point  for  us  who  are  on  the  theatre  of  the 
great  world.  A  life  constantly  dissipated,  without 
the  slightest  serious  occupation,  will  affect  even 
your  conscience.” 

There  are  moments  when  the  mother’s  exhorta¬ 
tions  to  her  daughter  are  veritable  lectures,  when 
her  pen  is  like  a  ferule.  One  may  judge  of  them 
by  this  letter  of  September  30,  in  the  same  year, 
wherein,  after  complaining  especially  because  the 
Dauphiness  is  not  gracious  enough  toward  Madame 
Du  Barry,  the  imperious  sovereign  wrathfully  ex¬ 
claims  :  “You  are  so  greatly  lacking  toward  your  ben-* 


THE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MARIA  THERESA  169 


efactor  on  the  very  first  occasion  when  you  can  oblige 
him!  .  .  .  Observe  now  for  whom?  By  a  shame¬ 
ful  wish  to  please  people  who  have  enthralled  you 
by  treating  you  as  a  child,  by  procuring  you  rides 
on  horseback  and  on  donkeys,  with  children,  with 
dogs  ;  such  are  the  great  reasons  which  attach  you 
by  preference  to  them  rather  than  to  your  master, 
and  which  in  the  long  run  will  make  you  ridiculous, 
neither  loved  nor  esteemed.  You  began  so  well. 
Your  appearance,  your  judgment,  when  not  controlled 
by  others,  is  always  correct  and  what  it  should  be. 
...  I  require  you  to  convince  the  King  of  your 
respect  and  tenderness  by  all  your  actions,  consider¬ 
ing  on  every  occasion  what  will  please  him.  .  .  . 
Even  should  you  be  obliged  to  embroil  yourself  with 
all  the  others,  you  have  but  one  sole  aim,  —  to  please 
the  King  and  do  his  will.” 

Marie  Antoinette,  accustomed  to  respect  her  mother 
as  much  as  God  himself,  always  bends  before  this 
authority  which  admits  of  no  reply.  Sometimes  she 
happens  to  forget  certain  recommendations,  but  she 
is  assuredly  excusable.  As  Count  de  Mercy  writes 
the  Empress  in  a  letter  of  June  16,  1772,  “the  bad 
manners  of  her  companions,  the  habit  of  receiv¬ 
ing  neither  reprimand  nor  contradiction  nor  even 
advice  from  the  King,  nor  from  Monsieur  the 
Dauphin  either,  and  the  three  hundred  leagues 
which  separate  her  from  you,  are  doubtless  the 
reasons  why  severe  letters  have  not  always  produced 
the  desired  effect.”  Moreover,  Maria  Theresa  re- 


170 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


lents  at  times.  From  the  tone  of  reprimand  she 
passes  to  that  of  tenderness.  Occasionally  her 
maternal  admiration  speaks  in  accents  worthy  of 
Madame  de  Sévigné.  She  writes  to  her  daughter, 
October  31,  1771:  “You  have  something  so  touch¬ 
ing  in  your  whole  person  that  it  is  hard  to  deny 
you  anything;  this  is  a  gift  of  God  for  which  you 
should  thank  Him,  and  use  it  for  His  glory  and 
the  welfare  of  others.”  It  is  because  she  would  like 
to  have  her  perfect,  both  physically  and  morally, 
that  she  says  in  a  letter  of  December  31,  1772: 
“What!  the  Antoinette  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years 
knew  how  to  receive  her  company  very  prettily,  and 
say  something  polite  and  gracious  to  every  one;  this 
truth  has  been  evident  to  all  Vienna,  tbe  whole 
Empire,  Lorraine,  and  France, —  and  is  the  Dau- 
phiness  now  to  be  embarrassed  by  a  simple  private 
person?  Do  not  accustom  yourself  to  these  frivolous 
excuses;  embarrassment,  fear,  timidity,  chimeras! 
People  employ  such  terms  as  those  without  reflec¬ 
tion,  to  excuse  a  bad  habit  of  not  incommoding 
themselves.  You  know  how  you  have  gained  hearts 
by  affability;  you  see  the  opposite  of  that  daily; 
can  you  allow  yourself  to  neglect  this  important 
point.  I  am  ending  the  old  year  with  my  sermons  ; 
you  will  wrong  me  if  you  do  not  accept  them  as  the 
greatest  mark  of  my  tenderness  and  the  interest 
I  take  in  your  future  welfare,  with  which  I  am 
continually  occupied.” 

Marie  Antoinette,  who  is  all  goodness  and  sensi- 


THE  DAUPniNESS  AND  MARIA  THERESA  171 


bility,  bears  her  mother  no  ill  will  for  her  often 
severely  given  counsels,  and  her  filial  piety  is  never 
in  fault.  One  should  read,  in  a  letter  of  Count  de 
Mercy- Argenteau,  February  29,  1772,  the  account  of 
the  grief  inspired  in  this  charming  Dauphiness  by 
the  news  that  her  mother  was  slightly  ill  :  “  The 
first  word  troubled  Madame  the  Dauphiness  so 
greatly  that  she  could  hear  nothing  further.  She 
returned  to  her  cabinet,  dissolved  in  tears,  and 
unable  to  say  anything  except  that  she  was  not  in 
a  condition  to  give  audience.  She  asked  for  a  rosary 
Your  Majesty  had  given  her,  and  began  to  pray. 
Monsieur  the  Dauphin,  who  did  not  leave  her, 
seemed  to  share  very  sincerely  the  grief  of  his 
august  spouse.” 

Maria  Theresa  sometimes  complains  that  her 
daughter’s  letters  are  not  long  enough.  This  is 
because  she  has  not  a  clear  notion  of  the  difficulties 
the  young  Princess  encounters  when  she  tries  to 
write  to  her  in  peace.  As  M.  de  Mercy-Argenteau 
tells  her,  Marie  Antoinette  always  writes  quickly, 
lest  she  should  be  surprised  either  by  her  husband 
or  her  aunts,  to  whom  she  never  shows  the  letters 
she  addresses  to  her  mother.  Her  correspondence  is 
certainly  not  a  masterpiece  of  style.  But,  honestly, 
could  one  expect  a  young  German  girl  to  write 
French  like  a  member  of  the  Acadenvp?  At  least, 
the  letters  of  Marie  Antoinette,  simple,  natural,  and 
without  literary  pretension,  have  the  advantage  of 
proving  a  good  heart,  a  pure  conscience,  a  character 
full  of  frankness. 


172 


LAST  YE  A  ES  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


When  one  goes  to  the  bottom  of  history  instead 
of  studying  nothing  but  the  surface,  what  especially 
strikes  one  is  the  slight  difference  that  exists 
between  sovereigns  and  ordinary  people.  Does  not 
the  great  Maria  Theresa,  the  illustrious  Empress, 
remind  one,  in  spite  of  all  her  prestige,  of  those 
good  middle-class  women  who  are  constantly  telling 
their  daughters  to  sit  up  straight  ?  Palaces,  thatched 
hovels,  garrets,  the  same  joys  and  sorrows,  passions 
and  vexations,  are  found  under  the  roof  of  each. 

To  sum  up,  there  is  nothing  grave  in  the  reproaches 
which  Maria  Theresa  addresses  to  her  daughter,  and 
at  any  other  epoch  the  Dauphiness  would  have 
received  nothing  but  praise.  But  at  that  time 
people  were  inclined  to  criticise  everything,  and  the 
first  breath  of  the  Revolution  was  agitating  French 
society. 

As  yet,  however,  the  delightful,  the  incomparable, 
Dauphiness  is  the  idol  of  the  court  and  the  nation. 
What  charm!  what  brilliancy!  what  attractions! 
How  she  eclipses  all  other  women  !  What  a  differ¬ 
ence  there  is  between  her  and  her  sisters-in-law,  the 
Countess  de  Provence  and  the  Countess  d’Artois! 
Everywhere  and  always,  Marie  Antoinette  is  the 
first,  in  grace  as  well  as  beauty.  One  would  say 
she  is  already  on  the  throne.  When,  at  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  second  act  of  Gluck’s  Iphigenia ,  the 
chorus  exclaims:  “Sing,  let  us  celebrate  our  queen,” 
the  public  turns  toward  the  Dauphiness  and  salute 
her  enthusiastically,  as  if  her  reign  had  already 


TUE  DAUPHINESS  AND  MARIA  THERESA  173 


begun.  How  she  animates  by  her  gaiety,  how  she 
illumines  by  her  smile,  this  grand  palace  of  Versailles 
which,  without  her,  would  be  so  dismal  !  What  life 
there  is  in  the  private  balls  which  she  gives  every 
Monday  in  her  apartments  !  People  dance  there  for 
the  pleasure  of  dancing,  without  ceremony  and  with¬ 
out  etiquette.  The  ladies  come  in  white  dominos, 
and  the  men  in  their  ordinary  attire.  Here  shines 
one  of  the  most  poetic  and  sympathetic  of  women, 
the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  that  twenty-year-old 
widow  who  will  be  Marie  Antoinette’s  best  and 
most  faithful  friend  ;  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  who 
surrounds  with  such  affectionate  cares  her  father-in- 
law,  that  venerable  Duke  de  Penthièvre,  to  whom 
Florian  said,  in  dedicating  to  him  a  Biblical  poem:1 

“  Pieux  comme  Booz,  austère  avec  douceur, 

Vous  aimez  les  humains  et  craignez  le  Seigneur. 

Hélas  !  un  seul  soutien  manque  à  votre  famille  ; 

Vous  n’épousez  pas  Ruth,  mais  vous  l’avez  pour  fille.”  2 

At  these  Monday  balls,  to  which  only  the  élite  of 
the  nobility  are  admitted,  and  invitations  to  which 
make  people  so  proud  and  happy,  those  young  men 
make  their  appearance  in  society  who  are  about  to 


1  See  M.  de  Lescure’s  interesting  work  :  La  Princesse  de  Lam¬ 
balle. 

2  Pious  like  Boaz,  gentle  though  austere, 

You  love  mankind  and  yet  the  Lord  you  fear. 

One  prop  your  family  yet  lacks,  alas  ! 

You  wed  not  Ruth,  who  takes  a  daughter’s  place. 


174 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


become  all  tlie  rage,  the  great  liberal  lords,  the 
chevaliers  of  new  France,  the  Lafayette,  Lauzun,  La 
March,  Ségur,  Dillon,  Noailles,  Lametli.  The  Mon¬ 
day  festivities  are  not  enough.  Other  balls  are 
given  on  Wednesday,  in  the  apartment  of  the  Coun¬ 
tess  de  Noailles,  Marie  Antoinette’s  lady  of  honor. 
The  Dauphiness  comes  there  for  the  first  time  on 
the  arm  of  her  husband,  who  says  to  the  Countess 
on  entering  :  “  I  hope,  Madame,  that  you  will  kindly 
receive  the  husband  and  the  wife;  we  do  not  come 
here  to  cause  embarrassment,  but  to  share  your 
amusements.”1 

The  Dauphin  and  the  Count  de  Provence  dance 
rather  clumsily;  on  the  other  hand,  the  Count 
d’Artois,  that  type  of  the  elegant  gentleman,  is  an 
accomplished  dancer.  As  to  Marie  Antoinette,  as 
graceful  as  beautiful,  as  lively  as  she  is  charming, 
she  has  the  gait  of  a  goddess. 

Et  vera  incessa  patuit  dea  .  .  . 

Her  only  defect  is  that  of  being  slightly  satirical. 
Like  Count  de  La  Marck,  she  makes  a  jest  of  what 
is  ugly  or  unpleasant.  She  loves  young  people,  she 
wishes  them  to  be  gay,  to  amuse  themselves  and 
banish  gloomy  thoughts.  How  full  of  life  she  is 
those  winters  of  1771  and  1772,  when,  in  company 
with  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  she  enjoys  her  favor- 


1  Count  de  Mercy-Argenteau’s  letter  to  Maria  Theresa,  Feb¬ 
ruary  25,  1771. 


THE  DA  U PH  IN  E  iiS  AND  MARIA  THERESA  175 


ite  amusement,  those  sleigh-rides  which  are  like  a 
vision  of  Northern  poetry!  And  how  majestic,  on 
the  8th  of  June,  1773,  the  day  of  her  ceremonious 
entry  into  Paris,  when,  in  a  gala  carriage  resplendeut 
with  gold  and  drawn  by  eight  horses,  followed  by 
five  other  equipages  not  less  magnificent,  she  goes, 
in  great  pomp,  first  to  Notre  Dame,  afterwards  to 
the  church  of  Saint  Geneviève,  and  finally  to  the  pal¬ 
ace  of  the  Tuileries. 

The  air  is  rent  with  enthusiastic  cries,  all  hats 
are  flung  up,  all  hearts  are  enraptured,  all  hands 
beat  wild  applause.  The  cry,  Long  live  the  Dau- 
phiness!  issues  from  every  breast.  At  every  step 
the  Princess  hears  them  saying:  “How  pretty  she 
is  !  How  beautiful!  How  good  she  looks  !  ”  A  rain 
of  flowers  descends  from  every  balcony,  every  win¬ 
dow.  This  is  not  merely  joy  and  admiration;  it 
is  intoxication,  delirium.  Moved  to  the  very  depths 
of  her  soul,  and  forgetting  this  time  all  her  sorrows 
and  presentiments,  Marie  Antoinette  joyfully  de¬ 
scribes  to  her  mother  this  unparalleled  festivity,  the 
remembrance  of  which  will  be  so  sweet. 

“On  returning  from  the  promenade,”  she  writes, 
June  14,  1773,  “we  climbed  an  open  terrace  (at  the 
Tuileries)  and  remained  there  half  an  hour.  I  can¬ 
not  tell  you,  my  dear  mamma,  what  transports  of 
affection  were  displayed  for  us  at  this  moment. 
Before  leaving  it  we  waved  our  hands  to  the  people, 
which  gave  them  great  pleasure.  How  fortunate  we 
are  in  our  position  to  gain  the  friendship  of  a  whole 


176 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


people  so  cheaply!  And  yet  there  is  nothing  so 
precious;  I  felt  that  thoroughly,  and  shall  never 
forget  it.  Another  point  which  caused  great  pleas¬ 
ure  on  this  beautiful  dajr  was  the  conduct  of  Mon¬ 
sieur  the  Dauphin.  He  made  wonderful  replies  to 
all  the  addresses,  noticed  everything  that  had  been 
done  for  him,  and  especially  the  joy  and  eagerness 
of  the  people,  to  whom  he  displayed  great  goodness. 
.  .  .  To-morrow  we  are  going  to  the  Opera  at 
Paris  ;  this  is  greatly  desired,  and  I  even  think  we 
shall  go  two  other  days  to  the  French  and  Italian 
Comedies.  Every  day  I  am  more  and  more  sensible 
of  what  my  dear  mamma  has  done  for  my  establish¬ 
ment.  I  was  the  youngest  of  all,  and  she  has  treated 
me  as  if  I  were  the  eldest  ;  hence  my  soul  is  filled 
with  the  most  tender  thankfulness.” 


XI 


THE  PAVILION  OF  LUCIENNES 

MADAME  DU  BARRY  throned  it  like  a 
queen.  At  last  she  had  succeeded  in  being- 
able  to  assume,  whenever  the  notion  took  her,  the 
manners  and  language  of  the  great  ladies.  Choos¬ 
ing  her  associates  from  among  women  of  the  highest 
rank,  a  Maréchale  de  Luxembourg,  a  Duchess 
d’ Aiguillon,  a  Maréchale  de  Mirepoix,  she  received 
dukes  and  peers,  ministers  and  ambassadors.  When 
Gustavus  III.,  King  of  Sweden,  came  to  the  court 
of  France,  in  1771,  he  offered  a  very  rich  collar  to 
the  favorite’s  little  dog.  The  policy  of  Madame 
Du  Barry,  if  one  admits  that  a  woman  of  that  sort 
can  have  a  policy,  was  more  authoritative,  more 
conservative,  than  that  of  Madame  de  Pompadour. 
Madame  Du  Barry  did  not  rely  upon  the  philoso¬ 
phers,  and  always  alarming  Louis  XV.  about  the 
danger  of  parliaments,  she  incessantly  reminded 
him  of  the  example  of  princes  who,  like  Charles  I., 
allow  their  royal  prerogatives  to  be  attacked.  At 
the  auction  of  Baron  de  Thiers’s  effects,  she  bought 
a  portrait  of  that  unhappy  monarch  for  twenty-four 

177 


178 


LAST  YEABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


thousand  livres,  and  it  is  asserted  that,  showing  this 
painting  to  Louis  XV.,  she  said  to  him:  “France, 
do  you  see  this  picture  ?  If  you  let  your  Parliament 
go  on,  it  will  cut  off  your  head,  as  the  English  Par¬ 
liament  did  to  Charles.” 

The  sense  of  danger  restored  to  the  old  sovereign 
a  vigor  which  assured  his  tranquillity  so  long  as  he 
lived.  The  Parliament  had  assumed  a  factious  atti¬ 
tude  in  consequence  of  its  quarrels  with  the  Duke 
d’ Aiguillon.  Declaring  that  “its  members,  in  their 
profound  affliction,  found  their  minds  not  sufficiently 
free  to  give  decisions  on  the  property,  life,  and  honor 
of  the  King’s  subjects,”  it  refused  to  render  justice. 
Louis  XV.  destroyed  this  beginning  of  revolution 
in  its  germ.  During  the  night  of  January  17,  1771, 
all  the  members  of  the  Parliament  were  arrested  in 
their  dwellings,  and  summoned  to  reply  merely  yes 
or  no  to  an  order  to  resume  their  functions.  All 
responded  negatively.  They  were  at  once  declared 
unseated,  and  departed  into  exile.  A  new  Parlia¬ 
ment,  called  the  Maupeou  Parliament,  after  the 
chancellor  who  had  advised  this  coup  d’Etat,  took 
the  place  of  the  former  one,  and  showed  itself 
perfectly  docile.  As  has  been  remarked  by  M. 
Théophile  Lavallée,  the  wheels  of  the  governmental 
machine  were  so  worm-eaten  that  even  the  organ  of 
resistance,  touched  by  the  finger  of  a  courtesan,  a 
Du  Barry,  crumbled  into  powder.  To  the  people, 
the  magistrates  seemed  only  privileged  persons  dis¬ 
credited  by  the  trials  of  Lalli,  Calas,  and  La  Barre. 


THE  PAVILION  OF  LUCIEN  N  ES 


179 


Maupeou  announced  that  justice  would  be  rendered 
gratuitously,  that  appointments  should  no  longer  be 
hereditary,  and  that  a  new  code  of  civil  and  criminal 
procedure  would  be  drawn  up.  Voltaire,  always  the 
partisan  of  success,  went  into  ecstasies  over  the 
glory  of  the  chancellor,  the  author  of  this  stroke,  and 
celebrated  it  in  an  enthusiastic  piece  of  verse  :  — 

“  Oui,  que  Maupeou,  tout  seul,  du  dédale  des  lois 
Ait  pu  retirer  la  couronne, 

Qu’il  l’ait  seul  rapportée  au  palais  de  nos  rois, 

Voila  ce  que  j’ai  vu,  voila  ce  qui  m’étonne. 

J’avoue  avec  l’antiquité 
Que  ses  héros  sont  admirables  ; 

Mais,  par  malheur,  ce  sont  des  fables; 

Et  c’est  ici  la  vérité.” *  1 

Madame  de  Pompadour  had  overthrown  the  Jesuits. 
The  Jansenists  were  crushed  by  Madame  Du  Barry. 
From  his  retreat  at  Ferney,  Voltaire  flattered  the 
favorite  with  those  refinements  of  adulation  of  which 
he  had  the  monopoly.  June  20,  1773,  he  wrote  the 
following  letter:  — 

“Madame, —  M.  de  Laborde  tells  me  you  have 


1  Yes,  that  Maupeou,  alone,  from  the  labyrinth  of  the  laws 
Has  been  able  to  withdraw  the  crown, 

That  he  alone  has  returned  it  to  the  palace  of  our  kings, 
This  is  what  I  have  seen,  this  is  what  amazes  me. 

I  avow  with  antiquity 
That  its  heroes  are  admirable  ; 

But,  unfortunately,  they  are  fables  ; 

And  this  is  the  verity. 


180 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ordered  him  to  embrace  me  on  both  cheeks  on  your 
account  :  — 

“  Quoi  !  deux  baisers  sur  la  fin  de  ma  vie  ! 

Quel  passeport  vous  daignez  m’envoyer  ! 

Deux  !  c’est  trop  d’un,  adorable  Egérie, 

Je  serais  mort  de  plaisir  au  premier.1 

“He  has  shown  me  your  portrait;  do  not  be 
angry,  Madame,  if  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
returning  it  the  two  kisses  :  — 

“  Vous  ne  pouvez  pas  empêcher  cet  hommage, 

Faible  tribut  de  quiconque  a  des  yeux. 

C’est  aux  mortels  d’adorer  votre  image, 

L’original  était  fait  pour  les  dieux.2 

“I  have  heard  several  bits  from  M.  de  Laborde’s 
Pandora  ;  they  have  seemed  to  me  very  well  worthy 
of  your  protection.  The  favor  shown  to  the  real 
fine  arts  is  the  only  thing  which  could  enhance  the 
brilliancy  with  which  you  shine. 

“Deign,  Madame,  to  accept  the  profound  respect 
of  an  old  solitary  whose  heart  has  no  longer  hardly 
any  sentiment  but  that  of  gratitude.” 

Public  opinion  was  less  severe  on  the  favorite 
than  might  be  believed.  People  pardoned  her  for- 


1  What  !  two  kisses  toward  the  end  of  my  life  ! 
What  a  passport  you  deign  to  send  me  I 
Two  I  that  is  one  too  many,  adorable  Egeria, 
I  shall  be  dead  of  pleasure  at  the  first  one. 

2  You  cannot  prevent  this  homage, 

The  feeble  tribute  of  all  who  have  eyes. 

’Tis  for  mortals  to  adore  your  image, 

The  original  was  made  for  the  gods. 


THE  PAVILION  OF  LUCIEN  NES 


181 


tune,  because  she  was,  as  they  vulgarly  said,  a  good 
girl,  because  “she  had  in  her  heart  the  affections  of 
the  common  people,  their  natural  attachments,  the 
sentiment  of  family.”1  She  went  every  fortnight  to 
spend  a  day  with  her  mother,  whom  she  had  trans¬ 
formed  into  a  Marquise  de  Montrable,  and  provided 
with  a  lodging  at  the  convent  of  Saint  Elisabeth,  a 
carriage,  a  country  seat,  and  a  little  farm,  called  La 
Maison  Rouge,  near  Lonjumeau. 

Madame  de  Pompadour,  the  personification  of  the 
middle  class  parvenue,  had  excited  furious  anger  in 
all  ranks  of  society.  The  Du  Barry  displeased  less, 
because  she  was  less  haughty.  Her  triumph,  more¬ 
over,  was  in  harmony  with  an  epoch  when,  as 
Chateaubriand  has  said,  “court  and  city,  men  of 
letters,  economists  and  encyclopedists,  great  lords 
and  gentlemen,  financiers  and  burghers,  resembled 
each  other,  as  witness  the  memoirs  they  have  left  us.” 

More  and  more  wearied  of  the  rules  of  etiquette, 
the  aged  Louis  XV.  thought  of  nothing  but  living 
like  a  private  gentleman,  loving  women,  hunting, 
and  good  cheer  as  long  as  possible.  All  that  was 
grand  fatigued  him.  Versailles,  too-  vast,  too  ma¬ 
jestic  for  him,  harassed  him  like  a  prison.  To  the 
magnificent  residence  of  Louis  XIV.  he  greatly  pre¬ 
ferred  the  little  pavilion  he  had  built  in  1771,  just 
beside  the  chateau  of  Luciennes,  and  which  belonged 
to  Madame  Du  Barry. 

There  are  monuments  which  are  symbols.  This 


1  Leu  Maîtresses  de  Louis  XV.,  by  MM.  de  Concourt. 


182 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


palace-boudoir,  temple  of  a  libertine  divinity,  repre¬ 
sents  marvellously  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
XV.  Ledoux  was  the  architect  of  this  little  master¬ 
piece,  and  its  salons  were  adorned  by  the  brushes  of 
•Joseph  Vernet,  Greuze,  and  Fragonard.  Situated  on 
an  eminence  from  which  one  beheld  a  magnificent 
view,  this  square  pavilion,  with  its  five  windows 
fronting  in  every  direction,  resembled  a  chateau  of 
Alcina,  the  abode  of  an  enchantress.  It  has  a 
peristyle  of  four  columns  in  the  Grecian  style  and 
a  Bacchanalian  dance  of  children  in  low  relief. 
The  entrance  is  by  a  vestibule  which  served  as  a 
dining-room  on  great  days.  This  is  the  room  re¬ 
produced  in  the  fine  wrater-color  of  Moreau  Jeune, 
now  in  possession  of  the  Louvre  Museum.  The 
walls  are  of  white  marble.  Capitals  surrounded 
by  gold  display  the  united  arms  of  Louis  XV.  and 
the  favorite.  In  front  of  the  vestibule  are  the 
tribunes  for  the  Countess’s  musicians.  This  large 
hall  opens  on  the  square  salon;  the  panels  of  the 
door  were  painted  by  Fragonard.  On  either  side  of 
the  grand  salon  is  another  smaller  one.  In  that  on 
the  right  there  is  a  set  of  four  paintings  by  Vien, 
representing  a  symbolic  history  of  love  in  the  heart 
of  young  girls;  in  that  on  the  left,  entirely  adorned 
by  mirrors  which  reflect  a  superb  mantelpiece  of 
lapis  lazuli  in  the  form  of  a  tripod,  Briard  has 
painted  on  the  ceiling  the  allegory  of  love  in  the 
country. 

When  Louis  XV.  comes  to  Luciennes,  he  has  no 


THE  PAVILION  OF  LUCIENNES 


183 


apartments  separate  from  those  of  the  Countess,  with 
the  exception  of  his  dressing-room.  Extremely  care¬ 
ful  of  his  person,  he  needs  a  private  room  in  which 
to  repair,  if  necessary,  the  little  disorders  of  his 
toilet,  and  to  have  more  powder  put  on  when  his 
hair  requires  it. 

What  a  little  gem,  what  a  charming  trifle,  is 
this  marvellous  pavilion!  Cornices,  bas-reliefs,  pi¬ 
lasters,  bits  of  jeweller’s  work,  locks,  window  fas¬ 
tenings,  —  each  detail  is  an  object  of  art,  a  treasure. 
What  refinements  of  luxury!  What  caprices,  what 
puerilities,  what  freaks  of  ornamentation  !  Chinese 
knick-knacks,  statuettes  in  Dresden  porcelain,  coffers 
of  ebony  and  ivory,  lacquered  furniture,  screens  cov¬ 
ered  with  birds  of  paradise  of  sparkling  plumage, 
cages  of  paroquets,  aviaries  in  gold. and  silver  fili¬ 
gree  ! 

Amidst  all  these  curiosities  one  perceives  a  little 
spaniel,  white  as  snow,  a  Brazilian  monkey,  a  small 
flame-colored  parrot,  and  a  Bengalese  child,  of  a 
coppery  black,  with  his  brilliant  eyes  and  bizarre 
accoutrements.  This  singular  negro  boy,  this  living 
toy,  is  Zamora,  Zamora  whom  the  Countess  held  at 
the  baptismal  font,  with  the  Prince  de  Conti  for  the 
other  sponsor,  and  whom  Louis  XV.  amuses  himself 
by  appointing  governor  of  the  pavilion  of  Luciennes, 
by  a  decree  countersigned  by  the  Chancellor  of 
France.  They  change  this  negro’s  costume  as  if  he 
were  a  doll.  Sometimes  he  is  dressed  as  a  savage, 
with  red  feathers,  variegated  garments,  necklaces  of 


184 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


beads  and  coral.  Sometimes  he  puts  on  a  green 
frock  coat,  braided  with  gold,  and  accompanies  the 
runner  who,  squeezed  into  a  polonaise  of  sky  blue 
cloth,  brandishes,  as  he  runs,  a  superb  cane  with  a 
carved  head.  Sometimes  he  is  in  vest  and  breeches 
of  pink  satin,  on  those  brilliant  evenings  when  from 
the  tribunes  of  the  vestibule  resound  the  notes  of 
violin,  flute,  and  hunting-horn;  where,  amid  great 
ladies  in  dazzling  toilettes  and  nobles  clad  in  velvet, 
precious  stones,  and  blue  ribbons,  crystals,  baskets  of 
flowers,  and  innumerable  lights,  the  Countess  Du 
Barry  beams  as  if  in  an  operatic  scene,  as  in  an 
apotheosis  of  gallantry  and  sensual  pleasure. 

But  showy  dress  is  not  what  best  becomes  her 
coquettish  and  sprightly  person.  She  is  still  prettier 
and  more  piquant  when  she  puts  on  the  half  fem¬ 
inine,  half  masculine  uniform  of  the  Queen’s  light 
cavalry.  Then  Dorat  addresses  her  the  following 
enthusiastic  lines  :  — 

“  Sur  ton  double  portrait  le  spectateur  perplexe, 
Charmante  Du  Barry,  veut  t’admirer  partout; 

A  ses  yeux  changes-tu  de  sexe, 

Il  ne  fait  que  changer  de  goût. 

S’il  te  voit  en  femme,  dans  l’âme, 

D’être  homme  il  sent  tout  le  plaisir  ; 

Tu  deviens  homme,  et  d’être  femme 
Soudain  il  sent  tout  le  désir.” 1 


1  Over  thy  double  portrait,  charming  Du  Barry, 

The  perplexed  spectator  wishes  to  admire  thee  everywhere  ; 
If  thou  cliangest  thy  sex  before  his  eyes, 

He  has  only  to  change  his  taste. 


THE  PAVILION  OF  LUCIEN  NES 


185 


At  Luciennes,  Louis  XV.  lives  like  a  banker  in 
a  small  house.  The  Most  Christian  King  has  no 
longer  any  majesty.  He  puts  on  a  simple  white 
vest,  and  amuses  himself,  like  an  honest  citizen,  in 
gardening  a  little.  He  likes  to  walk  underneath 
the  lindens,  and  afterwards  to  sit  on  the  terrace 
whence  he  can  see  at  his  feet  the  stream,  which, 
making  a  double  turn,  winds  like  a  horseshoe  under 
the  hill.  On  the  horizon  is  Saint-Germain,  the 
cradle  of  Louis  XIV.,  Saint  Denis,  the  burial-place 
of  kings,  whither  he  will  presently  go  to  rejoin  his 
ancestors,  and,  in  the  misty  distance,  Paris,  the 
carping,  revolutionary  city,  which  seems  to  menace 
him.  Tired  of  Versailles,  Louis  XV.  breathes  the 
free  air  on  this  terrace  and  endeavors  to  forget:  to 
forget  the  mistakes  of  his  official  and  his  secret 
diplomacy,  to  forget  the  first  partition  of  Poland 
which  is  going  on,  the  injunctions  of  England 
which,  preventing  France  from  aiding  the  Swedes 
or  the  Poles,  forbid  her  fleets  to  enter  either  the 
Baltic  or  the  Mediterranean;  to  forget,  in  fine,  his 
own  old  age,  and  another  decline  not  less  afflicting, 
that  of  the  French  monarchy.  The  blasé  sovereign 
casts  a  glance  of  disenchantment  at  the  present,  a 
glance  of  keen  anxiety  toward  the  future.  But  here 
comes  the  Countess  Du  Barry  with  her  arch  face, 


If  he  sees  thee  as  woman,  in  his  soul 
He  feels  all  the  pleasure  of  being  man  ; 

Thou  becomest  man, 

And  suddenly  he  is  all  desire  to  be  a  woman. 


186 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


her  provoking  smile,  her  rosy  mouth  which  calls  for 
kisses.  Louis  XV.  cheers  up  in  an  instant. 

Was  Madame  Du  Barry  more  immoral  than  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Pompadour?  I  do  not  believe  it.  Was  she 
more  detrimental  to  France?  I  do  not  believe  that 
either.  Were  the  beginnings  of  the  Marquise’s 
favor  more  noble  than  those  of  the  Countess?  Was 
the  first  more  truly  in  love,  more  disinterested,  than 
the  second?  For  my  part,  I  do  not  see  much  differ¬ 
ence.  Nevertheless,  I  am  tempted  to  find  Madame 
de  Pompadour  more  culpable  than  Madame  Du 
Barry.  Her  husband  was  the  better  man  of  the 
two.  M.  Lenormand  d’Etioles  had  not,  like  M.  Du 
Barry,  formed  a  wretched  contract  under  the  pretext 
of  marriage;  he  loved  his  wife,  he  surrounded  her 
with  care  and  attentions;  he  had  done  absolutely 
nothing  to  merit  the  unjustifiable  abandonment  and 
unexpected  treachery  of  which  he  was  the  victim. 

M.  Du  Barry,  on  the  other  hand,  had  willed  his 
own  fate.  Whatever  may  be  said  about  it,  the 
Marquise  was  not  in  reality  more  of  a  grand  lady 
than  the  Countess.  One  reflects  that  the  aristocracy 
thought  her  vulgar.  D’Argenson  spoke  of  her  con¬ 
temptuously;  Richelieu  saw  in  her  nothing  but  a 
misplaced  amusement,  “which  was  not  adapted  to 
subsist  worthily  at  court”;  Voltaire,  her  regularly 
appointed  flatterer,  stigmatized  her  as  a  cackler,  a 
grisette  created  for  the  opera  or  the  seraglio.  The 
Pompadour  was  elegant;  the  Du  Barry  was  not  less 
so.  Each  of  them  contrived  to  talk  the  language 
of  Versailles,  and  to  wear  their  clothes  as  well  as 


THE  PAVILION  OF  LUCIEN  NES 


187 


the  ladies  of  the  highest  nobility.  D’Aiguillon, 
the  favorite  of  the  Countess,  belonged  to  a  family 
not  less  ancient  than  that  of  Choiseul,  the  favorite 
of  the  Marquise.  Both  of  them  obliged  the  aris¬ 
tocracy  to  accept  their  families.  If  one  metamor¬ 
phosed  her  brother,  Abel  Poisson,  into  the  Marquis 
de  Marignjr,  the  other  married  her  nephew,  the 
Viscount  Adolphe  Du  Barry,  to  the  daughter  of 
the  Marquis  de  Tournon,  a  relative  of  the  Soubises 
and  the  Condés.  One  advantage  the  Countess  cer¬ 
tainly  had  over  the  Marquise:  no  one  could  lay  on 
her  the  responsibility  for  any  war  or  for  the  selection 
of  any  general. 

The  evil  passions,  hatred  and  rancor,  ambition  and 
cupidity,  pride  and  the  love  of  domination,  were 
infinitely  more  active  in  the  soul  of  Madame  de 
Pompadour  than  in  that  of  Madame  Du  Barry.  One 
was  a  commercial,  intriguing,  calculating  woman, 
mistress  of  herself,  egotistic,  haughty,  vindictive. 
The  other  was  a  daughter  of  the  people,  not  virtuous 
but  not  malicious,  not  lofty  in  sentiment  but  not 
spiteful,  possessing  all  the  defects  of  courtesans  but 
also  their  thoughtlessness,  prodigality,  playfulness. 
In  the  gallery  of  the  women  of  Versailles  I  shall 
place  Madame  Du  Barry  unhesitatingly  above  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Pompadour,  because  the  Countess  is  credited 
by  all  her  contemporaries  with  a  quality  that  was 
lacking  to  the  Marquise,  a  quality  which  expiates 
many  faults,  many  shames,  many  vices,  and  without 
which  no  woman  whatever  can  awaken  sympathy, 
—  that  of  good  nature. 


XII 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

OUÏS  XV.  foreboded  his  approaching  death. 


.  A  J  Like  all  men  who  retain  the  habit  of  debauch¬ 
ery  until  they  are  old,  he  found  more  suffering  than 
delight  in  sensual  pleasure,  more  pain  than  joy. 
Expiating  a  few  minutes  of  false  rapture  by  long 
hours  of  ennui  and  discouragement,  he  experienced 
the  painful  pressure  of  fatigue,  the  remorse  of  the 
body,  and  of  remorse,  the  fatigue  of  the  soul. 

Count  de  Mercy-Argenteau  wrote  to  Maria  The¬ 
resa,  June  16, 1773:  “Although  His  Majesty’s  health 
has  not  grown  worse  within  a  month,  yet  it  is 
observed  that  he  is  becoming  more  subject  to  vapors 
and  ennui.  His  first  liking  for  the  favorite  having 
been  weakened  by  time,  and  this  woman  possessing 
infinitely  few  resources  of  mind  or  character,  the 
King  finds  very  slender  entertainment  with  her,  and 
even  that  is  mixed  up  with  inconveniences  whose 
effects  he  constantly  experiences.” 

In  his  correspondence  with  his  sovereign,  the 
ambassador  frequently  returns  to  this  incurable 
melancholy  of  Louis  XV.  He  wrote,  August  14th 


188 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


189 


of  the  same  year:  “The  King  is  growing  old,  and 
from  time  to  time  seems  to  have  regrets.  He  finds 
himself  isolated,  without  aid  or  consolation  from  his 
children,  without  zeal,  attachment,  or  fidelity  from 
the  bizarre  assemblage  composing  his  ministry,  his 
society,  his  surroundings.”  And  February  19,  1774 : 
“From  time  to  time  the  King  begins  to  make 
remarks  concerning  his  age,  his  health,  and  the 
frightful  account  that  must  one  day  be  rendered  to 
the  Supreme  Being  for  our  employment  of  the  life 
He  has  accorded  to  us  in  this  world.  These  reflec¬ 
tions,  occasioned  by  the  death  of  some  persons  of  his 
own  age,  who  died  almost  before  his  eyes,  have 
greatly  alarmed  those  who  retain  the  monarch  in  his 
present  errors,  and  from  that  moment,  everybody  has 
thought  it  his  duty  to  conceal  such  events  as  far  as 
possible.”  People  criticised  the  actions,  the  secret 
thoughts,  of  Louis  XV.,  his  occasional  returns  to 
religious  practices,  his  more  frequent  visits  to  his 
daughter  Louise,  the  Carmelite,  the  humility  with 
which  he  had  listened  to  a  courageous  prelate,  Mon¬ 
seigneur  Beauvais,  Bishop  of  Senez,  saying  to  him 
in  a  sermon  delivered  before  the  whole  court  :  “  Solo¬ 
mon,  satiated  with  voluptuousness,  tired  of  having 
exhausted,  in  the  endeavor  to  revive  his  withered 
senses,  every  sort  of  pleasures  that  surround  the 
throne,  ended  by  seeking  one  of  a  new  kind  in  the 
vile  remnants  of  public  license.” 

Louis  XV.  was  sixty-four  years  old.  In  his  last 
days,  as  in  those  of  his  early  youth,  he  was  hesitat- 


190 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ing  between  vice  and  virtue  when,  April  28,  17T4, 
be  was  attacked  at  the  Little  Trianon,  by  a  malady 
which  at  once  became  alarming.  The  sick  man  was 
taken  to  the  château  of  Versailles,  and  at  once  what 
has  been  so  well  named  “the  jobbing  and  traffic  in 
the  King’s  conscience  ”  began.  The  Aiguillonists, 
the  Barriens,  as  the  partisans  of  the  minister  and  the 
favorite  were  called,  maintained  that  the  illness  was 
not  serious,  and  Avould  not  listen  to  any  mention  of 
the  sacraments.  The  friends  of  the  Duke  de 
Choiseul,  on  the  other  hand,  urgently  demanded 
that  the  King  should  receive  extreme  unction,  which 
must  be  the  signal  for  the  dismissal  of  his  mistress. 
Concerning  this,  the  brothers  Goncourt  have  made  the 
judicious  remark:  “It  happened,  strangely  enough, 
that  the  Aiguillon  party,  that  of  the  devotees  and 
the  Jesuits,  combined  to  prevent  the  communion  of 
Louis  XV.,  while  the  Choiseul  party,  that  of  the 
philosophers  and  unbelievers,  combined  to  force  this 
communion.”  The  Aiguillonists  trembled.  The 
King’s  malady  was  extremely  serious,  being  small¬ 
pox  of  the  most  dangerous  description.  If  the  old 
monarch  should  die,  it  was  all  up  with  their  favor. 
If  he  should  recover,  he  would  this  time  become 
devout.  In  either  case,  Madame  Du  Barry  would 
be  nobody. 

The  courtiers,  fearing  contagion,  did  not  come 
near  the  chamber  of  the  royal  invalid  without  alarm. 
One  of  them,  M.  de  Létorières,  succumbed  for  noth¬ 
ing  but  opening  the  door  and  looking  at  the  King 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


191 


two  minutes.  More  than  fifty  persons  caught  it  by 
merely  passing  through  the  gallery.  The  daughters 
of  Louis  XV.,  Mesdames  Adelaide,  Victoire,  and 
Sophie,  gave  at  this  time  an  admirable  example 
of  courage  and  filial  piety.  Although  they  had 
never  had  the  smallpox,  they  heroically  braved  the 
scourge.  While  the  Dauphin  and  his  two  brothers, 
the  Counts  of  Provence  and  Artois,  prudently  with¬ 
drew,  the  three  Princesses  did  not  hesitate  to  shut 
themselves  up  in  the  chamber 1  of  their  deserted 
father.  They  remained  there  from  the  time  his 
illness  began  until  his  death. 

The  Archbishop  of  Paris,  Monseigneur  Christo¬ 
pher  de  Beaumont,  paid  a  visit  to  the  King,  May  2. 
“As  they  were  on  the  watch  for  everything,”  says 
Baron  de  Besenval  in  his  Memoirs,  “as  soon  as  the 
Archbishop  appeared,  people  saw  Marshal  de  Riche¬ 
lieu  hastily  leave  the  King’s  apartment  and  go  as  far 
as  the  hall  of  the  guards  2  to  meet  him  ;  there,  draw¬ 
ing  him  aside,  they  sat  down  on  a  bench.  It  was 
noticed  that  the  Marshal  talked  with  great  vehe¬ 
mence  and  animated  gestures  ;  although  what  he 
said  could  not  be  overheard,  it  was  not  difficult  to 
see  that  he  was  trying  to  deter  him  from  proposing 
to  administer  the  sacraments.”  The  King  did  not 
make  up  his  mind  at  once.  Meanwhile,  the  sickness 


1  Room  No.  126  of  the  Notice  du  Musée  de  Versailles,  by  M. 
Soulié. 

2  Room  No.  120  of  the  Notice  du  Musée  de  Versailles,  by  M. 
Soulié. 


192 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


was  growing  worse.  The  physicians  used  the  word 
“delirium”  in  the  bulletin  of  May  3,  a  piece  of 
frankness  which  exasperated  the  Duke  d’Aiguillon. 
In  the  evening  of  May  4,  Madame  Du  Barry  was 
introduced  into  the  sick  man’s  chamber.  “Ma¬ 
dame,”  he  said  to  her,  “I  am  ill;  I  know  what  I 
have  to  do.  I  will  not  renew  the  scenes  of  Metz  ; 
we  shall  have  to  part.  Go  to  M.  d’ Aiguillon \s 
house  at  Reuil.  Be  sure  that  I  shall  always  have 
the  tenderest  affection  for  you.”  The  next  day,  at 
three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  favorite  left  Ver¬ 
sailles,  where  she  was  never  to  reappear. 

Behold  Louis  XV.  on  his  deathbed.  In  vain  he 
entreats  his  courageous  daughters  to  leave  him;  for 
the  first  time  in  their  lives  they  disobey  him.  The 
old  King,  as  Mercy-Argenteau  writes  to  Maria 
Theresa,  gives  “many  signs  of  repentance  and 
resignation.”  He  is  repairing  by  a  Christian  end 
the  scandals  of  his  long  existence.  In  the  night  of 
May  5-6,  he  asks  for  the  Abbé  Mondou,  his  con¬ 
fessor.  He  receives  absolution,  and  at  the  first 
glimmer  of  dawn,  May  6,  he  asks  to  have  the  sacra¬ 
ments  brought.  Showing  extreme  impatience  for 
the  priest’s  arrival,  he  sends  M.  de  Beauvau  several 
times  to  the  window  to  see  if  the  messenger  of  God 
is  not  on  his  way.  At  last  the  clergy  approach  with 
the  sacraments.  The  royal  invalid  briskly  throws  off 
his  bed  coverings,  and  forces  himself  into  a  kneeling 
posture,  leaning  against  the  front  of  his  bed.  As  the 
physicians  try  to  induce  him  to  cover  himself  up, 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


193 


he  says:  “When  my  great  God  does  a  wretch  like 
me  the  honor  to  come  to  him,  it  is  the  least  he  can 
do  to  receive  Him  with  respect.”  After  the  Com¬ 
munion,  the  grand  almoner,  Cardinal  de  La  Roche- 
Aymon,  reads  aloud  the  public  apology  made  by  the 
sovereign  to  his  people.  “Although  the  King,” 
exclaims  the  Cardinal,  “owes  an  account  of  his 
conscience  to  God  alone,  he  declares  that  he  repents 
of  having  given  occasion  for  scandal  to  his  sub¬ 
jects.”  At  these  words,  the  dying  man,  in  a  voice 
broken  by  the  last  agony,  said  :  “  Repeat  those  words, 
Monsieur  the  almoner,  repeat  them.”  Let  us  own 
that  if  Louis  XV.  did  not  know  how  to  live,  he  had 
at  least  the  merit  of  knowing  how  to  die  well. 

A  candle  burning  in  the  King’s  chamber,  which 
was  to  be  extinguished  at  the  same  moment  as  the 
life  of  the  King,  was  the  signal  agreed  on  for  the 
measures  to  be  taken  and  the  orders  given  as  soon 
as  he  should  have  breathed  his  last.  The  candle 
was  put  out  at  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  May 
10,  1774.  Instantly  a  great  tumult,  comparable  to 
a  clap  of  thunder,  shook  the  arches  of  Versailles. 
It  was  the  crowd  of  courtiers  leaving  the  ante¬ 
chambers  of  the  dead  man  and  noisily  hastening 
to  meet  the  new  monarch.  Lie  who  now  called 
himself  Louis  XVI.  threw  himself  spontaneously  on 
his  knees  along  with  his  wife.  “My  God!”  he 
exclaimed,  “guide  us,  protect  us;  we  are  too  young 
to  reign  !  ”  At  six  in  the  evening  the  new  King 
and  Queen  departed  for  Choisy.  Versailles  was  now 
only  a  desert. 


194 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Count  de  Ségur  says,  in  his  Memoirs,  concerning 
this  sudden  solitude  :  “  Dazzled  from  infancy  by  the 
splendor  of  the  throne,  the  extent  of  the  royal 
power,  a  witness  of  the  apparent  zeal,  the  affected 
ardor,  the  continued  eagerness  of  courtiers  and  those 
incessant  arts  of  homage  which  resembled  a  sort  of 
cult,  the  last  agony  and  the  death  of  the  King- 
caused  me  to  shed  tears.  What  was  my  surprise 
when,  on  hastening  to  V ersailles,  I  found  myself 
solitary  in  the  palace,  when  I  saw  a  general  indiffer¬ 
ence  and  even  a  kind  of  joy  pervading  the  city  and 
the  gardens!  The  setting  sun  was  forgotten;  all 
adorations  were  turning  toward  the  rising  one.  Not 
yet  laid  in  his  tomb,  the  old  monarch  was  already 
numbered  among  his  motionless  and  silent  prede¬ 
cessors.  From  that  time  his  reign  was  ancient 
history,  and  people  concerned  themselves  only  about 
the  future;  the  old  courtiers  thought  of  nothing  but 
how  to  keep  their  credit  under  the  new  reign,  and 
the  young  ones  of  how  to  supplant  them.  The 
counterspell  for  the  enchantments  of  a  court  is  a 
change  of  reigns  ;  then  the  heart  is  laid  bare  ;  all 
illusions  end;  the  dead  king  is  no  longer  more  than 
a  man,  and  often  less.  There  is  no  dramatic  stroke 
more  moral  than  that,  nor  more  adapted  to  make  one 
reflect.” 

At  the  moment  when  Louis  XV.  was  in  his  agony, 
the  Duke  de  Liancourt  noticed  that  a  valet  of  the 
wardrobe  was  in  tears.  “Well,”  said  the  Duke  to 
him,  “are  you  weeping  for  your  master?”  To 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


195 


which  the  domestic  answered  in  a  loud  tone:  “Oh! 
not  for  that.  If  I  am  crying,  it  is  for  my  poor 
comrade,  who  has  never  had  the  smallpox,  and  who 
will  die  of  it.”  The  corpse,  rolled  up  hastily  in  the 
sheets  of  the  bed,  was  thrown  into  a  triple  coffin  of 
oak  and  lead.  Several  priests,  in  the  mortuary 
chapel,  were  the  only  victims  condemned  not  to 
abandon  the  remains  of  the  miserable  King.  May 
12,  the  coffin  was  placed  on  a  large  coach.  As  is 
related  by  Baron  de  Besenval,  “a  score  of  pages  and 
fifty  mounted  grooms,  carrying  torches,  but  like  the 
carriages,  not  dressed  in  black,  composed  the  entire 
procession,  which  set  off  at  full  trot  at  eight  o’clock 
in  the  evening,  and  arrived  at  Saint  Denis  at  eleven, 
amidst  the  gibes  of  the  curious  spectators  on  either 
side  of  the  road,  and  who,  under  cover  of  the  dark¬ 
ness,  gave  full  scope  to  jesting,  the  dominant  char¬ 
acteristic  of  the  nation.  They  did  not  confine 
themselves  to  that;  epitaphs,  placards,  verses,  were 
scattered  broadcast,  aspersing  the  memory  of  the 
late  King.” 

A  letter  written  by  the  Countess  de  Boufflers  to 
Gustavus  III.,  July  20,  1774,  shows  what  were  then 
the  sentiments  of  a  part  of  the  French  nobility. 
“After  his  death,”  says  the  Countess,  speaking  of 
Louis  XV.,  “he  was  abandoned,  as  usual,  and  even 
in  a  still  more  terrible  manner  on  account  of  the 
nature  of  the  disease;  he  was  promptly  interred; 
his  corpse  passed  through  the  wood  of  Boulogne  on 
its  way  to  Saint  Denis,  about  midnight.  Cries  of 


196 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


derision  were  heard  as  it  passed  by;  people  kept 
repeating:  Taïaut!  taïaut!  as  when  a  stag  is  seen, 
and  in  that  ridiculous  tone  in  which  it  is  customary 
to  pronounce  it.  If  this  circumstance  is  true,  it 
shows  great  cruelty;  but  nothing  is  more  inhuman 
than  the  indignant  Frenchman,  and,  it  must  be 
agreed,  he  never  had  more  cause  to  be  so;  never 
have  a  nation  squeamish  about  honor,  and  a  nobility 
naturally  proud,  received  a  more  signal  or  less 
excusable  insult  than  that  given  us  by  the  late 
King  when,  not  contented  with  the  scandal  he  had 
given  by  his  mistresses  and  his  seraglio,  at  the  age 
of  sixty  we  saw  him  draw  from  the  vilest  class  and 
the  most  infamous  condition,  a  creature  of  the  worst 
sort,  in  order  to  establish  her  at  court,  admit  her  to 
his  table  with  his  family,  make  her  absolute  mistress 
of  favors,  honors,  and  rewards,  of  politics  and  the 
laws,  of  which  she  has  been  the  ruin, —  misfortunes 
which  one  can  hardly  expect  will  be  repaired.  One 
cannot  help  regarding  this  sudden  death  and  the 
dispersion  of  this  infamous  troupe  as  a  stroke  of 
Providence.” 

If  the  nobility  spoke  thus,  what  must  the  bour¬ 
geoisie  and  the  Parisian  population,  always  so 
caustic  and  fault-finding,  have  said?  Satirical  verses 
in  the  style  of  those  that  follow  were  published  :  — 

“  Te  voilà  donc,  pauvre  Louis, 

Dans  un  cercueil,  à  Saint- Denis  ! 

C’est  là  que  la  grandeur  expire. 

Depuis  longtemps,  s’il  faut  le  dire, 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


197 


Inhabile  à  donner  la  loi, 

Tu  portais  le  vain  nom  de  roi, 

Sous  la  tutelle  et  sous  l’empire 
Des  tyrans  qui  régnaient  pour  toi. 

“  Étais-tu  bon  ?  C’est  un  problème 
Qu’on  peut  résoudre  à  peu  de  frais. 
Un  bon  prince  ne  fit  jamais 
Le  malheur  d’un  peuple  qui  l’aime, 

Et  l’on  ne  peut  appeler  bon 
Un  roi  sans  frein  et  sans  raison, 

Qui  ne  vécut  que  pour  lui-même.  .  .  . 

“  Faible,  timide,  peu  sincère, 

Et  caressant  plus  que  jamais 
Quiconque  avait  su  te  déplaire, 

Au  moment  que  de  ta  colère 
Il  allait  ressentir  les  traits  : 

Voilà,  je  crois,  ton  caractère. 

Ami  des  propos  libertins, 

Buveur  fameux,  et' roi  célèbre 
Par  la  chasse  et  par  les  catins  : 

Voilà  ton  oraison  funèbre.”  1 


1  There  thou  art,  poor  Louis, 

In  a  coffin  at  Saint  Denis  ! 

There  doth  grandeur  expire. 

For  a  long  time,  one  must  needs  say, 
Incompetent  to  give  the  law, 

Thou  hast  borne  the  idle  name  of  king 
Under  the  tutelage  and  the  empire 
Of  tyrants  who  reigned  for  thee. 

Wert  thou  good  ?  It  is  a  problem 
Which  can  easily  be  resolved. 

A  good  prince  never  causes 

The  wretchedness  of  a  people  who  love  him, 


198 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


O  kings!  was  not  Bossuet  in  the  right  when  he 
said  that  although  seated  on  the  throne  you  were 
none  the  less  sitting  under  the  hand  and  the  supreme 
authority  of  God?  What  reflections  there  are  to 
make  over  the  inanity  of  the  grandeurs  of  this 
world,  the  miseries  of  court  life,  the  recantations 
and  meanness  of  flatterers,  the  shameful  calculations 
of  ambition  and  interest,  the  ugliness  of  the  human 
heart!  What  a  lesson!  that  frightful,  horrible, 
repulsive  death  struggle  of  this  sovereign,  who  had 
exhausted  all  the  enjoyments  of  luxury,  all  the 
refinements  of  pleasure,  all  the  elegances  of  volup¬ 
tuousness!  What  a  contrast  between  the  boudoirs 
full  of  lights  and  flowers  and  perfumes,  and  the 
coffin  where  rotted  “that  indescribable  something 
for  which  no  language  has  a  name  ”!  What  spectacle 
is  at  once  more  dismal  and  more  instructive  than 
the  lamentable  ending  of  this  prince  who  had  once 
been  called  the  Well-Beloved? 


And  one  cannot  call  good 
A  king  without  restraint  or  reason, 

Who  lives  for  no  one  but  himself.  .  .  . 

Feeble,  timid,  insincere, 

And  caressing  more  than  ever 
Him  who  had  managed  to  displease  thee, 
Up  to  the  moment  when  of  thy  wrath 
He  was  about  to  feel  the  effects  : 

That,  I  think,  was  thy  character. 

Lover  of  loose  speeches, 

Famous  drinker,  and  king  celebrated 
For  hunting  and  for  wantons  : 

That  is  thy  funeral  oration. 


EPILOGUE 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY 
HE  fatal  year,  1793,  has  sounded.  Nineteen 


JL  years  have  elapsed  since  the  death  of  Louis 
XV.  How  many  changes  !  What  revolutions  !  No 
throne,  no  altars,  no  aristocracy.  Versailles  is  a 
solitude.  There  are  sick-beds  in  the  gilded  gal¬ 
leries.  Sheep  browse  in  the  gardens.  Grass  grows 
between  the  flagstones  of  the  courtyards.  The 
fountains  are  dry.  The  marble  statues,  the  bronze 
groups,  are  thrown  down  or  mutilated.  The  greatest 
crime  in  all  French  history  has  just  been  accom¬ 
plished;  the  head  of  the  son  of  Saint  Louis,  the 
Most  Christian  King,  has  fallen  on  the  scaffold. 

What  has  become  of  Madame  Du  Barry  in  the 
tempest?  Where  is  that  woman  who  contributed  so 
greatly  to  the  enfeebling  of  the  monarchical  prin¬ 
ciple,  and,  consequently,  to  the  present  catastrophes  ? 
Since  October,  1792,  she  has  been  in  London.  She 
has  not  emigrated,  and  it  was  only  after  having  made 
herself  all  right  with  the  authorities  of  the  day  that 
she  went  to  England  to  prosecute  legally  the  authors 
of  the  robberies  committed  at  Luciennes.  The  guilty 


199 


200 


LAST  YEABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


persons  have  crossed  the  Channel,  and  Madame  Du 
Barry  is  searching  for  them. 

But  before  speaking  of  this  pursuit,  let  us  go  back 
a  little  and  recall  the  fate  of  the  favorite  after  the 
accession  of  Louis  XVI.  Exiled  at  first  to  a  con¬ 
vent  in  the  suburbs  of  Metz,  the  abbey  of  the 
Bernardines  of  Pont-aux-Dames,  she  received  after 
a  few  months  an  authorization  to  return  to  her  dear 
pavilion  of  Luciennes.  Her  affairs,  which  at  first 
had  been  embarrassed  on  account  of  enormous  debts, 
were  nearly  settled.  She  always  lived  in  great 
luxury,  with  a  numerous  household.  Many  of  her 
relations  with  the  court  had  remained  unbroken,  and 
though  it  seems  that  she  gave  her  royal  lover  more 
than  one  successor,  she  retained  a  sort  of  mundane 
veneration  for  his  memory.  Distinguished  for¬ 
eigners  always  made  a  point  of  being  presented  to 
the  late  King’s  mistress. 

When  the  Emperor  Joseph  II.  came  to  pay  a  visit 
to  his  sister,  Marie  Antoinette,  he  went  to  Luciennes 
and  walked  in  the  garden  with  the  Countess  Du 
Barry.  His  Imperial  Royal  and  Apostolic  Majesty 
offered  her  his  arm.  In  her  later  years  the  Countess 
had  made  a  conquest  of  an  accomplished  gentleman, 
the  Duke  de  Cossé-Brissac,  a  true  type  of  the  great 
noble,  heroically  brave  and  exquisitely  courteous. 
Not  merely  did  the  Duke  take  Madame  Du  Barry 
seriously,  but  he  showed  her  as  much  attention  and 
respect  as  to  the  highest  placed  lady  in  the  king¬ 
dom.  To  enthusiastic  admiration  he  united  the 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY  201 


most  vivid  and  profound  attachment.  As  has  been 
said  by  MM.  de  Goncourt,  there  is  in  this  attach¬ 
ment  of  M.  de  Brissac  such  a  bestowal  of  himself, 
such  delicate  attentions,  such  eagerness  to  oblige,  so 
profound  a  worship,  that  it  troubles  and  disconcerts 
one’s  judgment  on  the  woman  esteemed  worthy  of 
such  a  love.  Still  beautiful,  Madame  Du  Barry 
thought  herself  destined  to  a  happy  and  tranquil 
ending,  since  she  had  disarmed  her  enemies  them¬ 
selves  by  her  sweetness,  gaiety,  and  good  nature. 
Luciennes  was  still  a  delightful  place.  But  the 
storm  was  rumbling  in  the  distance,  and  the  Coun¬ 
tess,  always  improvident,  had  reckoned  without  the 
revolutionary  tide  which  was  rising,  rising  inces¬ 
santly,  and  which  was  to  submerge  all. 

Madame  Du  Barry  will  abjure  neither  the  court 
nor  the  monarchy.  The  woman  of  the  people  will 
remain  a  royalist,  not  forgetting  that  she  is  a  coun¬ 
tess  and  has  been  the  mistress  of  a  king.  In  1789, 
after  the  October  Days,  she  had  sheltered  the  body¬ 
guards  at  Luciennes  and  carefully  tended  their 
wounds.  The  Queen  had  thanked  her  for  this 
courageous  act,  and  the  former  favorite  of  Louis 
XV.  had  written  to  the  wife  of  Louis  XVI.  a  letter 
cited  in  the  Memoirs  of  Count  d'Allonville,  in 
which  she  thus  expressed  herself  :  “These  wounded 
youths  have  no  other  regret  than  that  of  not  having 
died  for  a  princess  so  worthy  of.  all  homage  as  is 
Your  Majesty.  What  I  have  done  for  these  heroes 
is  far  less  than  they  deserve.  I  console  them,  and  I 


202 


LAST  TEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


venerate  their  wounds  when  I  think,  Madame,  that 
but  for  their  devotion  Your  Majesty  would  perhaps 
be  no  more. 

“Luciennes  is  yours,  Madame;  was  it  not  your 
benevolence  which  restored  it  to  me?  All  that  I 
possess  came  to  me  from  the  royal  family:  I  have 
too  much  gratitude  ever  to  forget  it.  The  late 
King,  by  a  sort  of  presentiment,  forced  me  to  accept 
a  thousand  precious  objects  before  removing  me  from 
his  person.  I  had  the  honor  to  send  you  this  treas¬ 
ure  at  the  time  of  the  meeting  of  the  notables  ;  I 
offer  it  to  you  again,  Madame,  with  eagerness.  You 
have  so  many  expenses  to  provide  for,  and  number¬ 
less  benefits  to  confer!” 

In  1791,  Madame  Du  Barry  had  spent  several  days 
in  Paris  at  the  house  of  the  Duke  de  Brissac. 
Thieves  profited  by  her  absence  from  Luciennes  to 
enter  the  pavilion  of  the  chateau  and  possess  them¬ 
selves  of  the  magnificent  gems  contained  in  the 
jewel  cases  of  the  Countess.  Then  they  had  carried 
their  spoil  across  the  Channel.  The  next  year,  the 
Duke  de  Brissac  had  been  massacred  at  Versailles. 
He  left  a  will  in  which,  speaking  of  his  daughter, 
Madame  de  Mortemart,  whom  he  made  his  universal 
legatee:  “I  earnestly  recommend  to  her  a  person 
who  is  very  dear  to  me,  and  whom  the  misfortunes 
of  the  times  may  reduce  to  the  greatest  distress. 
My  daughter  will  have  a  codicil  from  me  which  will 
indicate  to  her  what  I  ordain  on  this  subject.” 

The  codicil  contained  an  important  legacy  to 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY  203 


Madame  Du  Barry.  “I  beg  her,”  said  the  Duke, 
“to  accept  this  feeble  pledge  of  my  sentiments  and 
my  gratitude,  for  which  I  am  all  the  more  her  debtor 
because  I  was  the  involuntary  cause  of  the  loss  of 
her  diamonds  ;  and  if  she  ever  succeeds  in  getting 
them  back  from  England,  those  which  remain  lost, 
and  the  cost  of  the  different  journeys  rendered  neces¬ 
sary  by  the  search  for  them,  in  addition  to  the  reward 
to  be  paid,  would  amount  to  the  actual  value  of  this 
legacy.  I  entreat  my  daughter  to  make  her  accept 
it.  My  knowledge  of  her  heart  assures  me  of  the 
exactitude  with  which  she  will  acquit  herself  of  it, 
whatever  may  be  the  charges  with  which  my  estate 
will  be  burdened  by  my  testament  and  my  codicil, 
it  being  my  will  that  none  of  my  other  legacies  shall 
be  paid  until  this  one  lias  been  entirely  accom¬ 
plished.” 

The  theft  of  the  jewels  was  to  prove  fatal  to  the 
Countess.  She  had  been  so  imprudent,  in  this  time 
of  jealousies  and  hatreds,  as  to  attract  public  atten¬ 
tion  to  her  riches  by  posting  on  the  walls  of 
Luciennes  and  its  environs  a  bill  whereon  might 
be  read:  “Two  thousand  louis  reward:  diamonds 
and  jewels  lost.”  Then  followed  an  enumeration  of 
the  diamonds,  pearls,  emeralds,  rubies,  and  sapphires. 
Greed  was  aroused.  The  village  of  Luciennes  had 
its  club;  it  was  claimed  there  that  the  Countess 
possessed  countless  treasures,  that  incalculable  riches 
were  concealed  in  the  pavilion,  that  it  was  the  mine 
from  which  the  royalists  drew  with  full  hands,  that 


204 


LAST  YFABS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


the  Countess  was  going  to  direct  and  pay  the 
reactionaries. 

M.  Sardou  has  said:  “When  History  makes  a 
drama,  she  makes  it  well.”  The  true  historic 
drama,  that  which  is  no  fiction  but  reality,  has  its 
vicissitudes,  its  contrasts,  its  gradations.  It  has 
above  all  its  traitors.  Do  you  remember  Zamora, 
that  child  of  Bengal,  whom  the  mistress  of  Luciennes 
had  held  at  the  baptismal  font  and  whom  she  had 
overwhelmed  with  benefits,  that  little  negro  who 
carried  a  parasol  over  the  favorite’s  head,  and  whose 
inky  blackness  threw  into  relief  the  snowy  whiteness 
of  the  Countess’s  visage?  Well,  the  miserable 
Zamora  is  a  traitor.  In  league  with  Madame  Du 
Barry’s  former  steward,  he  is  the  accomplice  of  one 
Greive,  who  styles  and  signs  himself  “Official 
defender  of  the  brave  sans-culottes  of  Luciennes, 
friend  of  Franklin  and  of  Marat,  factionist  and 
anarchist  of  the  first  rank,  disorganizer  of  despotism 
in  the  two  hemispheres  for  twenty  years.”  This 
hideous  crew  pursues  the  Countess  with  its  hatred. 
She  is  a  prey  that  the  tigers  who  scent  the  odor  of 
blood  will  be  sure  to  find  the  way  to  devour. 
Zamora  has  sworn  that  he  will  make  his  benefactress 
ascend  the  scaffold,  and  Zamora  will  keep  his  word. 

Madame  Du  Barry  had  made  four  journeys  to 
England  in  pursuit  of  those  who  stole  her  jewels. 
Her  last  stay  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel  had 
lasted  four  months  and  a  half,  from  the  middle  of 
October,  1792,  to  the  beginning  of  March,  1793. 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY  205 


Why  did  this  woman,  who  certainly  did  not  shine  by 
her  courage,  conceive  the  fatal  idea  of  returning  to 
France?  Was  the  fear  of  never  seeing  again  the 
treasures  hidden  in  the  pavilion  of  Luciennes  stronger 
than  her  sentiment  of  prudence  ?  Or  rather,  was  not 
the  victim  dragged  on  by  a  sort  of  inexplicable 
fatality,  by  the  vertigo,  the  fascination,  of  the  abyss  ? 

She  leaves  London,  March  3,  1793,  lands  at  Calais 
the  5th,  is  detained  there  until  the  18th  to  await 
new  passports,  and  arrives  at  Luciennes  the  19th. 
She  finds  seals  on  the  pavilion.  Zamora  and  his 
accomplices,  that  band  of  infamous  servants  to  whom 
Madame  Du  Barry  had  been  so  gentle,  kind,  and 
generous,  ruthlessly  continued  their  odious  denun¬ 
ciations.  The  Convention  rendered,  June  2,  a  decree 
expressed  in  these  terms  :  “  The  constituted  authori¬ 
ties,  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  Republic, 
shall  be  obliged  to  have  seized  and  placed  in  arrest 
all  persons  notoriously  suspected  of  incivism.”  Ma¬ 
dame  Du  Barry’s  persecutors  availed  themselves  of 
this  decree  to  arrest  her.  Once  she  has  been  released 
and  reinstated  in  her  pavilion.  But  hatred  is  not 
discouraged.  The  wretches  take  an  address  to  the 
Convention  in  which,  speaking  in  the  name  of  “the 
brave  sans-culottes  of  Luciennes,”  they  call  for 
the  definitive  arrest  of  a  woman  who,  say  they,  “has 
been  able,  by  means  of  her  riches  and  her  caresses 
learned  at  the  court  of  a  feeble  and  dissolute  mon¬ 
arch,  to  escape,  in  spite  of  her  notoriously  incivic 
relations,  from  the  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man, 


206 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


and  has  made  her  château  the  centre  of  liberticide 
projects  against  Paris.”  The  Convention  applauds 
this  stupid  language  and  felicitates  the  commune  of 
Luciennes  on  its  patriotism.  The  thing  is  done. 
Madame  Du  Barry  is  ruined. 

September  22,  surrounded  by  gendarmes,  she 
quits  the  pavilion  of  Luciennes,  which  she  is  never 
again  to  see.  She  is  transferred  to  the  prison  of 
Sainte-Pelagie,  where  she  is  placed  in  the  chamber 
that  had  been  occupied  by  Queen  Marie  Antoinette. 
What  funereal  presentiments  !  What  alarms!  What 
dismal  thoughts!  In  her  prison,  she  who  had  been 
the  mistress  of  Louis  XV.  could  think  of  the  corpse 
of  her  royal  lover.  A  few  days  before,  August  10, 
the  Convention  had  executed  its  decree  concerning 
the  violation  of  the  tombs  of  Saint  Denis,  of  that 
Saint  Denis  which  the  favorite  formerly  beheld  from 
the  heights  of  the  terrace  of  Luciennes.  They  had 
exhumed  “these  former  kings  and  queens,  princes 
and  princesses.”  They  had  broken  the  coffins,  and 
melted  the  lead  of  them.  The  corpse  of  Louis  XV., 
like  that  of  Louis  XIV.  and  his  predecessors,  had 
been  cast  into  the  common  pit. 

The  Countess  Du  Barry  shudders.  Now  it  is  her 
time  to  die.  December  7,  1793,  at  nine  o’clock  in 
the  morning,  she  appears  all  trembling  before  the 
revolutionary  tribunal.  Fouquier-Tinville  is  spokes¬ 
man,  in  virtue  of  his  office  as  public  prosecutor,  and 
in  his  requisition  he  yields  to  what  he  calls  “his 
indignation  as  an  honest  man  and  a  patriot.”  He 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY  207 


declaims  in  that  cruel  and  inflated  jargon,  odious 
and  grotesque,  of  which  this  infamous  epoch  has  the 
secret.  He  declares  that  he  “  does  not  wish,  through 
modesty,  to  lift  the  veil  which  should  cover  forever 
the  frightful  vices  of  the  court.”  The  modesty  of 
Fouquier-Tinville  !  .  .  .  Several  of  the  former  do¬ 
mestics  of  Madame  Du  Barry,  Zamora  at  their  head, 
are  cowardly  enough  to  depose  against  her.  The 
penalty  of  death  is  pronounced.  The  poor  woman 
grows  pale  and  totters.  The  gendarmes  are  obliged 
to  support  her  so  that  she  may  not  fall.  She  is  to 
mount  to-morrow  the  fatal  cart,  the  bier  of  the 
living,  as  Barrère  calls  it. 

Mad  with  terror,  breathless,  the  condemned  woman 
passes  a  night  of  anguish.  She  revolves  every  means 
of  prolonging  her  existence  for  some  hours,  some 
minutes.  She  says  she  will  make  revelations,  she 
will  show  at  Luciennes  the  hiding-places  of  all  her 
jewels,  all  her  treasures.  The  public  prosecutor 
sends  a  substitute  to  her  cell.  She  details,  like  a 
woman  who  is  afraid  of  forgetting  something,  all 
the  items  of  her  inventory,  because  she  imagines  that 
every  word  adds  a  second  to  her  life.  But  the 
executioner  is  waiting.  She  must  go. 

It  is  the  8th  of  December,  1793.  Fifty-three  days 
before,  another  woman,  a  queen,  had  come  out  of  the 
same  prison,  the  same  chamber,  to  go  likewise  to 
execution.  The  cart  was  filthy.  .For  a  seat  a 
board.  On  the  board  neither  hay  nor  straw.  Be¬ 
hind  the  victim,  Sanson  the  executioner,  holding  the 


208 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


ends  of  a  thick  cord  which  tied  the  condemned 
Queen’s  arms  behind  her.  A  poor  comic  actress 
had  lent  her  a  gown  in  which  she  could  decently 
present  herself  at  the  scaffold.  Well!  in  this  sorry 
attire,  amidst  the  yelling  of  the  crowd,  on  a  cold 
morning  in  October,  the  daughter  of  the  Cæsars  had 
been  more  sublime,  more  majestic,  than  on  the  throne. 
Dressed  in  white,  like  a  phantom,  a  little  red  on  the 
cheekbones,  but  otherwise  pale,  the  eyes  injected,  not 
with  tears,  but  blood,  the  hair  whitened  by  grief,  she 
was  to  the  very  end  calm,  serene,  magnanimous,  and 
regarded  with  mildness  and  compassion  the  infernal 
tumult  that  surrounded  her.  For  one  instant  only 
did  her  impassible  features  betray  emotion.  When 
the  cart  was  passing  rue  Saint  Honoré,  opposite  the 
Oratory,  a  little  child  in  its  mother’s  arms  threw  a 
kiss  to  the  Queen,  and  at  this  salute  of  innocence 
Marie  Antoinette  wept.  On  arriving  at  Calvary, 
she  sadly  contemplated  that  sacrilegious  spot  where 
her  husband  had  been  executed,  that  accursed  spot 
where,  twenty  years  before,  had  occurred  a  catas¬ 
trophe  which  was  an  omen.  She  turned  her  eyes 
toward  that  cemetery  of  the  Madeleine  where  the 
victims  were  then  entombed,  and  where  her  own 
headless  body  was  soon  to  be  placed.  Then  she  cast 
a  last  glance  toward  the  Tuileries,  which  to  her  had 
been  so  fatal,  the  Tuileries,  her  first  prison,  and, 
happening  to  step  on  the  foot  of  the  executioner,  she 
said  to  him  with  queenly  politeness:  “Sir,  I  beg 
your  pardon.”  She  died,  but  it  was  the  death  of 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY  209 


heroines  and  martyrs.  She  died,  bnt  the  purple  of 
her  blood  has  covered  her  with  a  second  royal 
mantle,  and  her  head,  cut  off,  is  resplendent  with 
the  flames  of  an  aureole  which  will  shine  from  age 
to  age.  She  died,  but  the  pure,  the  radiant  angels 
have  borne  her  beautiful  soul  to  heaven. 

Madame  Du  Barry  does  herself  justice.  She  feels 
that  she  cannot  have  so  magnificent  a  death.  The 
apotheosis  of  the  saint  is  not  for  her,  but  the  expia¬ 
tion  of  the  sinner.  The  wife  of  Louis  XVI.  had 
looked  death  in  the  face.  The  mistress  of  Louis 
XV.  will  not  have  that  courage.  She  is  frightened, 
she  sobs,  she  utters  such  heartrending  cries  that  it  is 
much  if  the  Terror  itself,  the  unpitying  Terror,  is 
not  for  the  first  time  moved  to  compassion. 

As  the  cart  passes  in  front  of  the  Palais  Royal, 
the  victim  perceives  the  balcony  of  a  millinery 
establishment  from  which  a  number  of  working- 
women  are  looking  at  the  funereal  procession.  She 
recognizes  the  house;  it  was  there  she  worked  as  a 
milliner’s  apprentice  when  a  very  young  girl.  Alas  ! 
why  did  she  become  Madame  the  Countess  Du  Barry? 
Her  countenance  is  by  turns  of  a  livid  pallor  or  a  deep 
red.  She  struggles  so  between  the  executioner  and 
his  two  assistants  that  they  can  hardly  keep  her  on 
her  bench.  Her  cries  redouble.  “Life!  life!”  she 
says;  “only  let  them  leave  me  life,  and  I  will  give 
all  my  property  to  the  nation.”  Then,  from  the 
crowd,  a  man  replies:  “You  would  only  give  the 
nation  what  belongs  to  it,  since  the  tribunal  has 


210 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


just  confiscated  your  property.”  A  charcoal  peddler, 
standing  in  front  of  this  man,  turns  round  and  gives 
him  a  slap  in  the  face.  The  victim  begins  anew  her 
supplications.  “  My  friends,  ”  she  cries,  “  my  friends, 
I  have  never  done  harm  to  any  one  !  In  the  name  of 
heaven,  I  beg  you,  save  me!”  Who  knows?  the 
stocking-knitters  themselves,  the  furies  who  lick  the 
guillotine,  are  perhaps  going  to  be  affected  by  these 
accents  of  the  woman  of  the  people.  This  time  it  is 
not  a  queen  who  is  about  to  die  ;  it  is  a  countess,  but 
a  countess  who  was  first  a  working- woman.  The 
horses  are  whipped  up,  the  end  is  hastened  to  stop 
the  compassion  of  the  crowd.  At  last  the  cart 
arrives  at  the  place  which  was  formerly  called 
Place  Louis  XV.  ;  there  where  once  rose  the  statue 
of  the  monarch,  the  scaffold  is  erected  where  they  are 
going  to  execute  his  mistress.  It  is  half-past  four 
o’clock.  “Help!  help!”  she  cries.  “Mercy!  mercy! 
Monsieur  Executioner!  Once  more.  ...”  The 
knife  falls.  It  is  all  over  with  Madame  Du  Barry. 

Had  we  not  reason  to  say,  at  the  beginning  of 
this  study,  that  history  is  a  long  funeral  oration? 
Ah!  as  Virgil  has  said,  there  are  tears  in  things, 
and  all  that  is  mortal  affects  our  soul  :  — 

Sunt  lacrymœ  rerum ,  et  mentem  mortalia  tangunt. 

If  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  surface  of  the  ages, 
we  remain  cold,  indifferent;  but  if  we  descend  to 
their  depths,  if  we  penetrate  the  secret  of  souls,  if 
we  lend  an  attentive  ear  to  voices  from  beyond  the 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BARRY  211 


tomb,  to  the  groanings,  the  cries  of  anguish  issuing 
from  the  abyss  of  the  past,  we  are  possessed  by  an 
invincible  sadness,  a  salutary  melancholy.  We  per¬ 
ceive,  in  the  language  of  Bourdaloue,  “that  all  these 
grandeurs  on  which  the  world  glorifies  itself  and 
the  pride  of  man  is  fed,  that  this  birth  on  which 
they  pique  themselves,  this  credit  which  flatters 
them,  this  authority  of  which  they  are  so  proud, 
these  successes  of  which  they  vaunt,  these  goods  in 
which  they  glory,  these  charges  and  dignities  of 
which  they  take  advantage,  this  beauty,  valor,  repu¬ 
tation  which  they  idolize,  is  nothing  but  a  lie.” 
The  lessons  of  history  are  neither  less  instructive 
nor  less  eloquent  than  the  best  sermons  of  the 
preachers.  All  destinies  have  their  conclusion  and 
all  deaths  their  instruction.  One  feels  surrounded 
by  a  host  of  phantoms,  sometimes  livid,  sometimes 
bloody,  whose  sepulchral  aspect  causes  a  shudder, 
and  whose  dismal  voices  say  :  “  Remember,  man,  that 
thou  art  dust,  and  unto  dust  thou  must  return. — 
Memento ,  homo ,  quia  pulvis  es,  et  in  pulverem  reverteris. 

Behold  the  women  of  the  court  of  Louis  XV.  ; 
behold  the  royal  mistresses,  once  so  flattered,  who 
appear  foj-  the  last  time,  and  one  after  another  take 
up  the  word! 

“I,”  says  the  Countess  de  Mailly,  “when  banished 
by  an  earthly  king,  found  my  consolation  at  the  feet 
of  the  King  of  heaven.  I  have  wept  sincerely  for  my 
faults,  and  God,  in  His  mercy,  has  deigned  to  grant 
me  time  for  repentance.” 


212 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


“I,”  says  the  Countess  de  Vintimille,  “had  barely 
crossed  the  threshold  of  that  fatal  chateau  of  Ver¬ 
sailles,  when  stricken  as  by  a  thunderbolt,  I  died  in 
giving  birth  to  the  infant  of  my  crime.” 

“I  also,”  says  the  Duchess  de  Châteauroux,  “I 
passed  like  the  grass  of  the  field  which  withers  in  a 
day.  Crushed  by  affronts  and  anguish,  I  lost  my 
miserable  sceptre,  and  at  the  moment  when  I  seized 
it  again,  I  died  very  young,  I  died  enwrapped  in  my 
shameful  triumph  as  in  the  most  sorry  of  shrouds.” 

“And  I, ’’says  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour,  “never 
tasted  a  single  instant  of  real  happiness  in  all  my 
twenty  years  of  power.  I  had  everything  except  the 
esteem  which  cannot  be  bought.  At  the  bottom  of 
my  intrigues  and  pretended  pleasures  I  found  only 
nothingness.  My  conscience  spoke  louder  than  my 
flatterers;  I  felt  my  own  wretchedness.  My  life, 
brilliant  externally,  was  inwardly  replenished  with 
sorrow  and  darkness.  A  sorceress  had  predicted  it 
to  me:  I  died  of  nothing  but  chagrin.” 

“I,”  says  the  Countess  Du  Barry,  the  last  of  the 
royal  mistresses,  she  whose  execution  is  as  it  were  the 
summing  up,  the  symbol  of  the  expiations,  “  I  have 
paid  very  dear  for  the  enjoyments  of  luxury  and  sen¬ 
suality;  I  knew  neither  how  to  live  nor  how  to  die. 
At  an  epoch  when  heroism  was  a  common  thing,  I 
weakened,  I  was  afraid,  I  shuddered  on  the  scaffold  !  ” 
After  the  favorites,  it  is  the  turn  of  the  sovereign 
whose  fatal  love  was  the  cause  of  all  their  misfor¬ 
tunes. 


THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  MADAME  DU  BAEEY  213 


“I,”  he  says,  “have  seen,  like  the  Preacher,  all 
that  is  clone  under  the  sun,  and  I  have  found  that 
all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  I  became 
voluntarily  the  victim  of  guilty  passions  which, 
when  once  the  inebriation  was  over,  left  nothing  in 
the  soul  but  a  painful  stupor  and  a  cruelly  felt  void. 

I  was  disgusted  with  others  and  with  myself.  I 
did  not  believe  in  the  prestige  of  my  own  crown, 
and  in  spite  of  my  riches,  my  power,  my  ability  to 
realize  all  my  caprices,  there  was  incarnated  in 
me  that  gnawing  evil,  ennui.  If  my  weaknesses 
have  given  scandal,  horrible  has  been  the  chas¬ 
tisement.  I  have  been  punished  in  myself  and 
punished  in  my  race,  punished  as  man,  punished 
as  king.” 

When,  in  the  silence  of  mind  and  heart  one  has 
just  listened  to  these  lessons  of  history  and  death, 
one  reflects.  After  meditating  on  instructions  so 
austere,  one  finds  the  problems  of  human  destiny 
less  insoluble,  and  recognizing  the  point  from  which 
things  must  be  viewed,  one  discovers,  as  Bossuet 
says,  that  what  at  first  seems  confusion  is  in  fact 
only  concealed  art,  an  ensemble  of  combinations 
admirably  ordained  by  Providence.  Then  earthly 
grandeurs  appear  in  their  true  light,  and  one  feels 
better,  calmer,  less  ambitious,  less  disposed  to  com¬ 
plain  of  the  inequalities  of  fate.  The  shades  of 
princes  and  princesses,  of  great  lords  and  ladies, 
have  their  mysterious  language,  and  all  combine  to 
say  in  unison  these  words  from  the  Imitation  of 


214 


LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Christ,  the  most  affecting  and  purest  of  all  books, 
if  the  Gospel  did  not  exist  :  — 

“  It  is  vanity  to  amass  perishable  riches  and  place 
one’s  hope  in  them. 

“It  is  vanity  to  seek  for  honors  and  elevate  one’s 
self  to  the  chief  places. 

“  It  is  vanity  to  follow  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and 
to  love  that  which  in  the  end  will  merit  rigorous 
chastisements. 

“It  is  vanity  to  desire  long  life  and  to  be  so  little 
concerned  to  have  it  good. 

“  It  is  vanity  to  think  only  of  present  things  and 
not  to  foresee  those  that  are  to  come. 

“  It  is  vanity  to  love  that  which  passes  so  quickly, 
and  not  to  be  eager  to  gain  heaven  where  joy  endures 
forever.” 


INDEX 


Adelaide,  Madame,  146, 167, 191. 

Agen,  Duke  d’,  his  words  concern¬ 
ing  Madame  Louise,  111. 

Argenson,  Marquis  d’,  his  words 
prophetic  of  revolution,  24. 

Artois,  Count  d’,  his  character,  144, 
145,  174,  191. 

Atheism  in  France,  Walpole’s 
words  concerning,  68,  72  ;  Dide¬ 
rot’s  words  concerning,  71. 

Barbier,  quoted,  68. 

Beaumarchais,  26  ;  the  hero  of  the 
day,  27  ;  censured  by  the  court, 
27,  28. 

Beaumont,  Christopher  de,  Arch¬ 
bishop  of  Paris,  visits  Louis  XV. 
during  the  King’s  last  illness, 
191. 

Beauvais,  Abbé  de,  20. 

Boufflers,  Duke  de,  52. 

Boufflers,  Madame  de,  56;  her 
words  at  death  of  Louis  XV., 
195,  196. 

Breteuil,  Barou  de,  84. 

Brissac,  M.  de,  see  Cossé-Brissac, 
Duke  de. 

Broglie,  Count  de,  engaged  in 
secret  diplomacy,  83,  84. 

Buffon,  his  words  concerning  love, 
47-50. 

Campan,  Madame,  quoted,  79; 
reads  to  Madame  Louise,  105, 
106;  visits  Madame  Louise  at 
Saint  Denis,  110;  her  words  con¬ 
cerning  dinners  of  royal  family,  j 
146;  her  words  concerning  Ma¬ 
dame  Sophie,  147. 


Carmelite  convent  at  Saint  Denis, 
the,  107  et  seq. 

Catherine  IL,  Czarina,  58;  Dide¬ 
rot’s  adoration  of,  71. 

Chamfort,  his  definition  of  love, 
46. 

Chartres,  Duke  de,  155. 

Chateaubriand,  his  words  concern¬ 
ing  society  during  last  years  of 
Louis  XV.,  87,  181. 

Châteauroux,  Duchess  de,  quoted, 

212. 

Choiseul,  Duchess  de,  her  salon, 
54;  her  sound  sense,  54;  her 
criticism  of  Rousseau,  54-56  ; 
her  purity,  56;  words  of  Wal¬ 
pole  concerning,  56. 

Choiseul,  Duke  de,  character  of, 
88,  89  ;  his  enemies,  89,  97  ;  his 
attitude  toward  Madame  Du 
Barry,  101-104;  his  power  weak¬ 
ening,  104;  meets  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette,  132;  his  downfall,  151— 
155  ;  exiled,  155,  156. 

Church,  a  revolution  forming 
against,  25. 

Clergy  of  Frauce  during  last  years 
of  Louis  XV.,  18-21. 

Clotilde,  Madame,  145. 

Cossé-Brissac,  Duke  de,  his  attach¬ 
ment  to  Madame  Du  Barry,  200, 
201;  massacred,  202;  his  legacy 
to  Madame  Du  Barry,  202,  203. 

D’Aiguillon,  187,  190. 

D’Alembert,  51  ;  his  love  for  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  Lespiuasse,  62,  67. 

Dauphin,  the,  marriage  of,  to  Marie 
|  Antoinette,  121;  letter  to,  from 


216 


216 


INDEX 


Marie  Antoinette,  121  ;  meets 
Marie  Antoinette,  132;  celebra¬ 
tion  of  his  marriage,  136-142  ; 
his  character,  144;  his  hostility 
to  Choiseul,  154,  191  ;  his  words 
at  death  of  Louis  XV.,  193;  de¬ 
parts  for  Choisy,  193. 

Deer  Park,  80,  85,  90,  98. 

Deffand,  Marquise  du,  the  salon  of, 
57,  60-63;  compared  with  Ma¬ 
dame  Geoffrin,  60;  her  blind¬ 
ness,  60  ;  her  wit  and  satire,  62  ; 
her  letters,  62  ;  Voltaire’s  fear 
of,  62;  her  religious  inclinations, 
65  ;  her  words  on  life  and  death, 
65,  66  ;  her  affection  for  Horace 
Walpole,  66;  her  criticism  of 
Madame  Louise,  111. 

Desalleurs,  Count,  84. 

Diderot,  his  words  concerning 
atheism,  71  ;  his  adoration  for 
the  Empress  Catherine  II.,  71. 

Du  Barry,  Count  Jean,  94,  95. 

Du  Barry,  Count  William,  his  mar¬ 
riage,  95. 

Du  Barry,  Madame,  Louis  XV. ’s 
passion  for,  9,  42  ;  suit  between 
heirs  of,  91-93  ;  her  birth,  92  ;  her 
early  years,  93  ;  called  Mademoi¬ 
selle  l’Ange,  94;  delights  Louis 
XV.,  94;  her  marriage,  95; 
becomes  mistress  of  Louis  XV., 
95;  presented  at  Versailles,  97, 
98  ;  her  apartments  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  98;  her  house  in  the 
city  and  her  riches,  99;  her 
personal  charms,  99,  100;  Wal¬ 
pole’s  words  concerning,  100, 
101  ;  her  position  at  court,  101- 
104  ;  her  attitude  toward  Duke 
de  Choiseul,  101-104  ;  her  words 
concerning  Madame  Louise,  112  ; 
her  relations  to  Marie  Antoinette, 
150  et  seq.  ;  her  victory  over 
Choiseul,  151-155;  her  attitude 
towards  Parliament,  177,  178  ; 
letter  to,  from  Voltaire,  179,  180; 
feelings  of  the  people  for,  180, 
181  ;  makes  her  mother  Mar¬ 


quise  de  Montrable,  181  ;  com¬ 
pared  with  Madame  de  Pompa¬ 
dour,  179,  181,  186,  187;  her  life 
after  death  of  Louis  XV.,  200  et 
seq.  ;  her  conquest  of  the  Duke 
de  Cosse'-Brissac,  200,  201  ;  shel¬ 
ters  royal  body-guards  at  Lu- 
ciennes,  201  ;  her  letter  offering 
hospitality  of  Luciennes  to  Mario 
Antoinette,  201,  202;  her  pavil¬ 
ion  at  Lucienues  robbed,  202, 
203  ;  her  trips  to  England,  199, 
204;  betrayed  by  her  servants, 
204-206;  taken  from  Lucienues 
to  prison,  206;  appears  before 
the  revolutionary  tribunal,  206, 
207  ;  condemned  to  death,  207  ; 
her  execution,  209,  210,  212. 

Durfort,  Marquis  de,  demands 
Marie  Antoinette  for  the  Dauphi  n , 
121. 

Egmont,  Countess  d’,  42. 

Elisabeth,  Madame,  145. 

Eon,  Chevalier  d’,  83. 

Epinay,  Madame  d’,  her  words  con¬ 
cerning  modesty,  47. 

Étioles,  Lenormand  d’,  186. 

Encyclopedists,  Madame  Geoffrin's 
attitude  towards,  64. 

Fouquier-Tinville,  206,  207. 

Francis,  Emperor,  116,  117. 

Gassner,  forecasts  future  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  117. 

Genet,  Mademoiselle,  afterwards 
Madame  Campan;  see  Madame 
Campan. 

Geoffrin,  Madame, her  salon,  57-60; 
her  husband,  57  ;  her  character 
and  manners,  59;  the  greatest 
nobles  pay  court  to  her,  58;  her 
visits  to  Warsaw  and  Vienna,  58, 
117,  118;  Walpole’s  admiration 
for,  59,  60;  compared  with  Ma¬ 
dame  du  Deffand,  60;  her  rela¬ 
tions  toward  the  Encyclopedists, 
64  ;  meets  Marie  Antoinette,  118. 


INDEX 


217 


Gleichen,  Baron  de,  151,  152. 

Goethe,  his  words  concerning  mar¬ 
riage  of  Marie  Antoinette,  128. 

Goëzman,  Counsellor,  26,  27. 

Guibert,  M.  de,  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse’s  love  for,  67. 

Gustavus  III.  of  Sweden,  letters  to, 
41-43,  177. 

Henriette,  Madame,  86. 

Joseph  II.,  Emperor,  his  visit  to 
Luciennes,  200. 

Laborde,  M.  de,  179;  his  Pandora, 
180. 

La  Bruyère,  quoted,  68. 

La  Harpe,  51. 

La  Marck,  Countess  de,  43. 

Lamballe,  Priucess  de,  173. 

Lespinasse,  Mademoiselle  de,  her 
salon,  57,  63;  sketch  of,  62,  63; 
her  unhappy  love,  67. 

Lorraine,  Mademoiselle  de,  ac¬ 
corded  preference  by  Louis  XV. 
in  the  minuet  at  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette’s  marriage  festivities,  137— 
140. 

Louise  of  France,  Madame,  in  the 
Convent  of  the  Carmelites,  104; 
her  preparation  for  convent  life, 
105,  106  ;  obtains  permission  to 
enter  the  religious  state,  107  ; 
letters  to,  from  the  King  and 
her  sisters,  107-110;  enters  con¬ 
vent  at  Saint  Denis,  107, 108  ;  vis¬ 
ited  by  Madame  Campan,  110; 
criticisms  of,  111  ;  her  life  of  re¬ 
ligious  devotion,  112-114;  visited 
by  Marie  Antoinette,  133;  takes 
the  habit  of  the  Carmelites,  147, 
148. 

Louis  XV.,  the  court  during  last 
years  of,  2  et  seq.  ;  his  old  age,  9 
et  seq.  ;  a  pater  dedicated  to,  9; 
feeliugs  of  the  people  towards, 
12,  85,  86  ;  a  type  of  the  ancient 
réf/ime,  12;  his  character,  12-14  ; 


his  passion  for  Madame  Du 
Barry,  9;  his  victory  over  Par¬ 
liament,  12,  13,  25  ;  his  words  to 
Marshal  de  Richelieu,  20;  his 
horror  of  the  magistracy,  23; 
feelings  of  the  middle  classes  for, 
30;  love  during  reign  of,  45-50; 
suffers  family  bereavements,  79, 
80;  his  attention  to  Marie  Lee- 
zinska  in  lier  last  illness,  80; 
urged  to  lead  a  virtuous  life,  80; 
his  apathy  and  indifference,  81, 
82,  88;  his  secret  intriguing  pol¬ 
icy,  82-84;  his  lack  of  will,  85; 
his  personal  appearance  during 
later  years,  85  ;  the  personifica¬ 
tion  of  his  epoch,  87  ;  makes 
Madame  Du  Barry  his  mistress, 
94,  95  ;  closes  establishment  at 
Deer  Park,  98;  gives  Madame 
Du  Barry  a  house  in  the  city,  99  ; 
grants  Madame  Louise  permis¬ 
sion  to  enter  the  religious  state, 
107  ;  his  letters  to  Madame 
Louise,  107,  108;  meets  Marie 
Antoinette,  132;  accords  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  Lorraine  preference 
in  the  minuet  at  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette’s  marriage  celebration, 
137-140  ;  his  affection  for  Marie 
Antoinette,  145  ;  his  reply  to 
Choiseul,  152;  dismisses  Choi- 
seul,  155;  at  the  pavilion  of  Lu¬ 
ciennes,  181-183,  185;  forbodes 
his  death,  188,  189;  his  melan¬ 
choly,  188;  criticised,  189;  taken 
ill  with  small-pox  at  the  Little 
Trianon,  190;  urged  to  receive 
extreme  unction,  190;  on  his 
death-bed,  192  ;  receives  com¬ 
munion,  192,  193;  dies,  193; 
Count  de  Ségur’s  words  at  deatli 
of,  194  ;  his  burial,  195  ;  public 
indignities  to  corpse  of,  195,  196  ; 
satirical  verses  on,  196,  197  ;  his 
words  concerning  his  own  life, 
213. 

Love  during  reign  of  Louis  XV., 
45-50;  Chamfort’s  definition  of, 


218 


INDEX 


46;  Buffon’s  words  concerning, 
47-50. 

Little  Trianon,  the,  190. 

Lnciennes,  pavilion  of,  181-186, 
199,  200,  202. 

Luxembourg,  Mare'chale  cle,  51  ; 
her  position  in  society,  52-54; 
fascinates  Rousseau,  53  ;  her 
manners  and  conversation,  53, 
54. 

MacMahon,  Julienne  de,  113. 

Magistracy  of  France  during  last 
years  of  Louis  XV.,  22-28;  hor¬ 
ror  of  Louis  XV.  for,  23. 

Mailly,  Countess  de,  quoted,  211. 

Maria  Theresa,  Empress,  58;  her 
character,  115,  162,  163;  her  in¬ 
struction  of  Marie  Antoinette, 

116  ;  consults  Gassner  concern¬ 
ing  future  of  Mario  Antoinette, 

117  ;  forms  Marie  Antoinette 
after  manner  of  the  court  of 
France,  118  ;  her  sorrow  at  part¬ 
ing  with  Marie  Antoinette,  121  ; 
her  Rule  to  be  Read  Every  Month , 
125, 126  ;  urges  Marie  Antoinette 
to  treat  Madame  Du  Barry  def¬ 
erentially,  157,  160;  her  corre¬ 
spondence  with  Count  de  Mercy- 
Argenteau,  162  et  seq.  ;  her 
jealous  watchfulness,  167,  168; 
her  exhortations  to  Marie  An¬ 
toinette,  168-172;  her  tenderness, 
170. 

Marie  Antoinette,  104;  her  birth, 
115;  her  childhood,  116  et  seq.; 
loses  her  father,  117  ;  her  future 
forecast  by  Gassner,  117  ;  trained 
to  the  manner  of  the  court  of 
France,  118;  her  beauty,  119; 
her  marriage  arranged,  120,  121  ; 
her  letter  to  the  Dauphin,  121; 
leaves  Vienna,  122  ;  chanson  ad¬ 
dressed  to,  123;  superstitious  pre¬ 
sentiments  concerning,  124  ;  sees 
France  for  the  first  time,  127; 
the  symbolical  ceremony  of  de¬ 
livery  of,  128,  129;  arrives  at 


Strasburg,  130;  Prince  Louis  de 
Rohan’s  address  to,  130,  131  ; 
her  route  to  Paris,  131-133; 
meets  Duke  de  Choiseul,  the 
Dauphin,  and  Louis  XV.,  132; 
visits  Madame  Louise,  133;  ar¬ 
rives  at  Versailles,  134;  descrip¬ 
tion  of,  by  Bachaumont,  135, 136; 
festivities  at  her  marriage,  136- 
142  ;  her  reception  by  the  French 
people,  143;  her  affection  for 
Louis  XV.,  145;  her  apartment, 
145  ;  her  daily  life,  145,  146  ; 
witnesses  ceremony  of  the  taking 
of  the  veil  by  Madame  Louise, 
147, 148;  the  object  of  ill-feeling, 
149,  150;  her  relations  to  Ma¬ 
dame  Du  Barry,  150  et  seq.; 
advised  to  treat  Madame  Du 
Barry  deferentially,  157,  160; 
her  repugnance  for  Madame  Du 
Barry,  150,  159  ;  her  simple, 
child-like  nature,  164,  165  ;  sur¬ 
rounded  by  enemies,  149,  150, 
166;  spied  upon,  166,  167;  lec¬ 
tured  by  her  mother,  Maria  The¬ 
resa,  168, 169;  her  filial  devotion, 
171;  the  idol  of  the  court,  172, 
176;  dances  in  apartments  of, 
173;  goes  to  Choisy  with  the 
Dauphin,  193;  invited  by  Ma¬ 
dame  Du  Barry  to  come  to 
Luciennes,  201,  202;  death  of, 
207,  208. 

Marie  Leczinska,  79;  last  illness 
and  death,  80,  95. 

Maupeou  Parliament,  see  Parlia¬ 
ment,  Maupeou. 

Maximilian,  Archduke,  serves  as 
proxy  for  the  Dauphin  in  mar¬ 
riage  of  Marie  Antoinette,  121. 

Mercy-Argenteau,  Count  de,  157  ; 
urges  Marie  Antoinette  to  treat 
Madame  Du  Barry  deferentially, 
158, 159  ;  his  correspondence  with 
Maria  Theresa,  162  et  seq.;  his 
character,  163,  164. 

Middle  classes  in  France  during  last 
years  of  Louis  XV.,  29-33;  their 


INDEX 


219 


feelings  toward  Louis  XV.,  30; 
religious  sentiment  among,  32. 

Mirepoix,  Maréchale  de,  50  ;  her 
criticism  of  Madame  Louise,  111. 

Montesquieu,  his  words  concerning 
the  ruling  classes  of  France,  24. 

Montrable,  Marquise  de,  181. 

Nobility  of  France  during  last  years 
of  Louis  XV.,  15-17  ;  intimacy  of, 
with  men  of  letters,  51. 

Ogny,  M.  d’,  83. 

Olbach,  Baron  d’,  74. 

Pandora,  Laborde’s,  180. 

Paris,  salons  of,  see  Salons  of  Paris. 

Parliament,  victory  of  Louis  XV. 
over,  12,  13;  the  Maupeou,  25, 
178,  179. 

Pater,  dedicated  to  Louis  XV.,  9. 

Penthièvre  Duke  de,  173. 

People,  of  France  during  last  years 
of  Louis  XV.,  34-39;  La  Bru- 
yere’s  words  concerning,  34;  Ma- 
sillon’s  words  concerning,  34. 

Philosophers,  the,  during  last  years 
of  Louis  XV.,  68-76;  their  posi¬ 
tion  in  society,  69,  70;  Walpole’s 
words  concerning,  70, 73, 74  ;  their 
gravity,  73. 

Place  Louis  XV.,  catastrophe  of, 
142,  143. 

Poisson,  Abel,  187. 

Political  women,  see  Women,  polit¬ 
ical. 

Pompadour,  Madame  de,  compared 
with  Madame  Du  Barry,  179, 181, 
186,  187  ;  her  unhappiness,  212. 

Poniatowski,  Stanislas,  58. 

Provence,  Count  de,  his  character, 
144,  191. 

Richelieu,  Marshal  de,  100, 191, 192. 

Rohan,  Prince  Louis  de,  his  address 
to  Marie  Antoinette,  130,  131. 

Rousseau,  his  Nouvelle-TIéloiae,  49- 
51  ;  fascinated  by  the  Maréchale 


de  Luxembourg,  53  ;  the  Duchess 
de  Choiseul’s  criticism  of,  54-56. 

Rule  to  be  Read  Every  Month, 
Marie  Theresa’s,  125,  126. 

Saint-Germain,  Count  de,  83. 

Saint-Priest,  M.  de,  84. 

Salons  of  Paris,  51  et  seq. 

Se'gur,  Count  de,  quoted,  86,  87  : 
his  words  concerning  society 
during  last  years  of  Louis  XV., 
88  ;  his  words  at  death  of  Louis 
XV.,  194. 

Society  in  France  during  last  years 
of  Louis  XV.,  Chateaubriand’s 
words  concerning,  87  ;  Count  de 
Ségur’s  words  concerning,  88. 

Society  of  the  Moment,  The,  48. 

Sophie,  Madame,  146, 147,  191. 

Tarouka,  Duke  de,  his  wager  with 
the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  115. 

Trianon,  the  Little,  190. 

Vergennes,  M.  de,  84. 

Vermond,  Abbé  de,  instructor  of 
Marie  Antoinette,  120. 

Versailles,  during  last  years  of 
Louis  XV.,  9-11  ;  after  death 
of  Marie  Leczinska,  79  ;  Madame 
Du  Barry’s  apartments  at,  98; 
deserted,  199  ;  too  vast  for  Louis 
XV.,  181. 

Victoire,  Madame,  146,  147,  191. 

Vintimille,  Countess  de,  quoted, 

212. 

Voltaire,  51  ;  his  fear  of  Madame 
du  Deffand,  62,  68;  his  show  of 
religious  devotion,  71,  72;  his 
letter  to  Madame  Du  Barry,  179, 
180. 

Walpole,  Horace,  letters  of,  quoted, 
11,  51,  52,  56,  59,  68;  Madame  du 
Deffand’s  affection  for,  66;  his 
words  concerning  the  philoso¬ 
phers,  70,  73,  74  ;  his  words  on 
atheism,  68,  72;  his  retirement 


220 


INDEX 


to  Chartreuse,  74;  his  words 
concerning  Madame  Du  Barry, 
100,  101. 

Women  of  the  court  of  Louis  XV 
lessons  of  their  lives,  211-214. 


Women,  political,  in  France  during 
last  years  of  Louis  XV.,  40-44. 

Zamora,  183,  184;  a  traitor,  204, 
205. 


XorfcoooB  îPrtss  : 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


FAMOUS  WOMEN  OF  THE 
FRENCH  COURT 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS,  PUBLISHERS 


FORMER  series  of  M.  Imbert  de  Saint-Amand’s  historical 
works  have  depicted  the  great  French  historical  epochs 
of  modern  times.  The  stirring  events  of  the  Revolution,  of  the 
Consulate  and  Empire,  and  of  the  Restoration  period,  ending  with 
the  July  revolution  of  1830  and  the  accession  of  Louis  Philippe, 
are  grouped  around  the  attractive  personalities  of  Marie  An¬ 
toinette,  the  Empresses  Josephine  and  Marie  Louise,  and  the 
Duchesses  of  Angoulême  and  of  Berry.  The  remarkable  and 
uniform  success  of  these  works  has  induced  the  publishers  to  un¬ 
dertake  the  translation  and  publication  of  a  previous  series  of  M. 
de  Saint-Amand’s  volumes  which  deal  with  epochs  more  remote, 
but  not  for  that  reason  less  important,  interesting,  or  instructive. 
The  distinction  of  the  cycle  now  begun  with  the  “Women  of  the 
Valois  Court  ”  and  ending  with  “  The  Last  Years  of  Louis  XV.,” 
is  that,  whereas  in  former  series  several  volumes  have  been  de¬ 
voted  to  the  historical  events  associated  with  each  of  the  titular 
personalities  to  which  they  were  closely  related,  in  the  present 
instance  a  more  condensed  method  is  followed.  The  color  of 
the  present  series  is  more  personal,  and  therefore  more  romantic, 
as  is  to  be  expected  in  the  annals  of  a  period  during  which  the 
famous  women  of  the  French  Court  were  not  only  more  numer¬ 
ous  but  more  influential  than  their  successors  of  later  times. 
The  dawn  of  the  modern  era,  chronicled  in  M.  de  Saint-Amand’s 
“  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  End  of  the  Old  Régime  ”  was  the 
beginning  of  the  extinction  of  the  feminine  influence  that  flour¬ 
ished  vigorously  in  affairs  of  state  from  Marguerite  of  Angoulême 
to  Madame  Dubarry.  It  is  the  history  of  this  influence  that  the 
author  has  graphically  written  in  the  four  volumes  now  announced 
—  “Women  of  the  Valois  Court,”  “The  Court  of  Louis  XIV.,” 
and  “The  Court  of  Louis  XV.,”  and  “The  Last  Years  of  Louis 
XV.” 


FAMOUS  WOMEN  OF  THE  FRENCH  COURT 


The  first  volume  is  devoted  to  Marguerite  of  Angoulême  and 
Catherine  de’  Medici  and  their  contemporaries  at  the  French 
court  during  the  days  of  the  last  of  the  Valois  —  the  most  ro¬ 
mantic  period  of  royalty  probably  in  all  history.  The  two  principal 
figures  are  depicted  with  striking  vividness,  —  the  half  Catholic, 
half  Protestant  sister  of  Francis  I.,  the  grandmother  of  Henry 
IV.,  the  author  of  the  famous  “  Heptameron,”  and  one  of  the  most 
admirable  historical  figures  of  any  epoch  ;  and  the  diplomatic, 
ambitious,  unscrupulous  but  extremely  human  Catherine,  univer¬ 
sally  held  responsible  for  the  awful  Massacre  of  Saint  Bartholo¬ 
mew.  But  the  subordinate  though  scarcely  less  famous  women 
who  adorned  the  Valois  Court  —  Diane  de  Poitiers,  the  Duchess 
d’Etampes,  Marguerite  of  Valois,  Marie  Stuart,  and  others  — 
are  described  with  an  equally  brilliant  and  illuminating  touch. 

The  volumes  on  the  women  of  the  great  Bourbon  epoch, 
the  epoch  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV.,  when  the  Bourbon 
star  was  in  the  zenith,  contain  a  great  deal  of  intimate  history 
as  well  as  setting  in  relief  the  interesting  personalities  of  the 
famous  La  Vallière  and  Montespan  and  that  perennial  historical 
enigma,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  in  the  volume  devoted  to  the 
court  of  the  “  Sun  King,”  and  those  of  Madame  de  Pompadour, 
Madame  Dubarry,  Queen  Marie  Leczinski,  and  other  celebrities 
who  made  Versailles  what  it  was  during  the  long  and  varied 
reign  of  Louis  XV.  The  study  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  is  a 
real  contribution  to  history,  and  the  pictures  of  the  clever  and 
dazzling  beauties  who  controlled  so  long  the  destinies  not  only 
of  France  but  measurably  of  Europe  itself  from  the  accession  of 
“le  Grand  Monarque”  to  the  first  threatenings  of  the  Revolution 
“  deluge  ”  are  extremely  lifelike  and  skilfully  executed.  The  his¬ 
torical  chronicle  of  the  time  is  by  no  means  lost  sight  of  by  the 
author,  but  in  this  series  even  more  than  in  his  works  heretofore 
published  in  English  he  appears  not  only  as  an  interesting  and 
impartial  historian,  but  as  a  brilliant  historical  portraitist. 

FOUR  NEW  VOLUMES. 

WOMEN  OF  THE  VALOIS  AND  VERSAILLES  COURTS. 

Eachwith  Portraits ,  $1.25.  Price  per  set ,  in  box,  cloth ,  $5.00  ;  half  calf ,  $10.00. 

WOMEN  OF  THE  VALOIS  COURT. 

THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 

THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


FAMOUS  WOMEN  OF  THE  FRENCH  COURT 


VOLUMES  PREVIOUSLY  ISSUED. 


THREE  VOLUMES  ON  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

Each  with  Portrait ,  $1.25.  Price  per  set,  in  box,  cloth ,  $3.75;  half  calf,  $7.50. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AND  THE  END  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AT  THE  TUILERIES. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AND  THE  DOWNFALL  OF  ROYALTY. 

In  this  series  is  unfolded  the  tremendous  panorama  of  political  events  in 
which  the  unfortunate  Queen  had  so  influential  a  share,  beginning  with  the  days 
immediately  preceding  the  Revolution,  when  court  life  at  Versailles  was  so  gay  and 
unsuspecting,  continuing  with  the  enforced  journey  of  the  royal  family  to  Paris,  and 
the  agitating  months  passed  in  the  Tuileries,  and  concluding  with  the  abolition  of 
royalty,  the  proclamation  of  the  Republic,  and  the  imprisonment  of  the  royal  family, 
—  the  initial  stage  of  their  progress  to  the  guillotine. 

THREE  VOLUMES  ON  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 

Each  with  Portrait,  $1.25.  Price  per  set,  in  box ,  cloth,  $3.75;  half  calf,  $7.50. 

CITIZENESS  BONAPARTE. 

THE  WIFE  OF  THE  FIRST  CONSUL. 

THE  COURT  OF  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 

The  romantic  and  eventful  period  beginning  with  Josephine’s  marriage,  com¬ 
prises  the  astonishing  Italian  campaign,  the  Egyptian  expedition,  the  coup  d'état  of 
Brumaire,  and  is  described  in  the  first  of  the  above  volumes;  while  the  second  treats 
of  the  brilliant  society  which  issued  from  the  chaos  of  the  Revolution,  and  over 
which  Madame  Bonaparte  presided  so  charmingly;  and  the  third,  of  the  events 
between  the  assumption  of  the  imperial  title  by  Napoleon  and  the  end  of  1807, 
including,  of  course,  the  Austerlitz  campaign. 

FOUR  VOLUMES  ON  THE  EMPRESS  MARIE  LOUISE. 

Each  with  Portrait,  $1.25.  Price  Per  set,  hi  box,  cloth,  $5.00;  half  calf ,  $10.00. 

THE  HAPPY  DAYS  OF  MARIE  LOUISE. 

MARIE  LOUISE  AND  THE  DECADENCE  OF  THE  EMPIRE. 

MARIE  LOUISE  AND  THE  INVASION  OF  1814. 

MARIE  LOUISE,  THE  RETURN  FROM  ELBA,  AND  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS. 

The  auspicious  marriage  of  the  Archduchess  Marie  Louise  to  the  master  of 
Europe;  the  Russian  invasion,  with  its  disastrous  conclusion  a  few  years  later;  the 
Dresden  and  Leipsic  campaign;  the  invasion  of  France  by  the  Allies,  and  the  mar¬ 
vellous  military  strategy  of  Napoleon  in  1814,  ending  only  with  his  defeat  and  exile 
to  Elba;  his  life  in  his  little  principality;  his  romantic  escape  and  dramatic  return  to 
France;  the  preparations  of  the  Hundred  Days;  Waterloo  and  the  definitive  restora¬ 
tion  of  Louis  XVIII.  closing  the  era  begun  in  1789,  with  “  The  End  of  the  Old 
Régime,”  —  are  the  subjects  of  the  four  volumes  grouped  around  the  personality  of 
Marie  Louise. 


FAMOUS  WOMEN  OF  THE  FRENCH  COURT 


TWO  VOLUMES  ON  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ANGOULÈME. 

Each  with  Portrait ,  $1.25.  Price  per  set,  in  box,  cloth,  $2.50;  half  calf,  $5.00. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ANGOULEME. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  ANGOULEME  AND  THE  TWO  RESTORATIONS. 

The  period  covered  in  this  first  of  these  volumes  begins  with  the  life  of  the 
daughter  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  imprisoned  in  the  Temple  after  the 
execution  of  her  parents,  and  ends  with  the  accession  of  Louis  XVIII.  after  the  abdica¬ 
tion  of  Napoleon  at  Fontainebleau.  The  first  Restoration,  its  illusions,  the  characters 
of  Louis  XVIII. ,  of  his  brother,  afterwards  Charles  X.,  of  the  Dukes  of  Angoulême 
and  Berry,  sons  of  the  latter,  the  life  of  the  Court,  the  feeling  of  the  city,  Napoleon’s 
sudden  return  from  Elba,  the  Hundred  Days  from  the  Royalist  side,  the  second 
Restoration,  and  the  vengeance  taken  by  the  new  government  on  the  Imperialists, 
form  the  subject-matter  of  the  second  volume. 


THREE  VOLUMES  ON  THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY. 

Each  with  Portrait,  $1.25.  Price  per  set,  in  box,  cloth,  $3.75;  half  calf,  $7.50. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY  AND  THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XVIII. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY  AND  THE  COURT  OF  CHARLES  X. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  BERRY  AND  THE  REVOLUTION  OF  JULY,  1830. 

The  Princess  Marie  Caroline,  of  Naples,  became,  upon  her  marriage  with  the 
Duke  of  Berry,  the  central  figure  of  the  French  Court  during  the  reigns  of  both 
Louis  XVIII.  and  Charles  X.  The  former  of  these  was  rendered  eventful  by  the 
assassination  of  her  husband  and  the  birth  of  her  son,  the  Count  of  Chambord,  and 
the  latter  was  from  the  first  marked  by  those  reactionary  tendencies  which  resulted 
in  the  dethronement  and  exile  of  the  Bourbons.  The  dramatic  Revolution  which 
brought  about  the  July  monarchy  of  Louis  Philippe,  has  never  been  more  vividly 
and  intelligently  described  than  in  the  last  volume  devoted  to  the  Duchess  of  Berry. 

“  In  these  translations  of  this  interesting  series  of  sketches,  we  have 
found  an  unexpected  amount  of  pleasure  and  profit.  The  author  cites 
for  us  passages  from  forgotten  diaries,  hitherto  unearthed  letters,  extracts 
from  public  proceedings,  and  the  like,  and  contrives  to  combine  and 
arrange  his  material  so  as  to  make  a  great  many  very  vivid  and  pleas¬ 
ing  pictures.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  material  he  lays  before  us  is  of  real 
value,  and  much ,  if  not  most  of  it,  must  be  unknown  save  to  the  special 
students  of  the  period.  We  can,  therefore,  cordially  commend  these  books 
to  the  attention  of  our  readers.  They  will  find  them  attractive  in  their 
arrangement,  never  dull,  with  much  variety  of  scene  and  incident,  and 
admirably  translated." — The  Nation,  of  December  iq,  1890. 


